


The Fairy Ring

by thedeathchamber



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Zayn Malik/Liam Payne, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mild Gore, OT5 Friendship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-23 20:18:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 46,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6128860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedeathchamber/pseuds/thedeathchamber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry has dreamed of a world outside the tiny village of Holmes Chapel for as long as he can remember... a world full of magic and adventure and true love.<br/>It was nothing but a childhood dream, however, until an old family friend comes bearing word of a plot against Harry's life and a very dangerous truth: Harry is the rightful heir to the crown and must embark on a perilous quest to reclaim his throne from the ruthless would-be King Simon.<br/>But in the end Harry will find himself fighting for more than a crown, and on the verge of losing something much more precious than his sovereign power.<br/>Because magic might be real, but life is not a fairy tale, and Harry is a prince up against a very big dragon. </p><p>Or: a medieval fantasy AU in which Harry is a prince in disguise and Louis is the king of the faeries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Post on [tumblr](http://louehvolution.tumblr.com/post/140309726111/pairing-harry-styleslouis-tomlinson-rating) with a fairy!Louis and prince!Harry manip!

PROLOGUE

 

Harry gnawed on his lower lip. One of his baby teeth was loose and he poked at it with his tongue as he shot Liam a glance. Liam shrugged, rubbing the top of his shaved head with his palm.

“Well?” Harry blurted out.

Taylor looked up at him, simpering. “You’re a foolish little boy, Harry.”

Harry squeezed his mouth tight, chin wobbling. The prickling in his eyes was all too familiar. It wasn’t the first time Taylor made him cry.

“These aren’t treasures. It’s nonsense.”

“But look-” Harry reached for the delicate, iridescent bit of reptilian skin, holding it carefully between his fingers. “This is from a _dragon_!”

He nudged Liam with his elbow for support. Liam nodded emphatically, rubbing the back of his neck.

“That’s just a bit of snake skin,” Taylor said. She pulled out a fragment of gray stone. “And this isn’t a troll’s finger- it’s just a rock.”

Harry pouted and snatched the bit of stone from her, holding it in a tight fist.

“This isn’t a goblin’s tooth- it’s a shard of chicken bone,” Taylor continued, her upper lip curled. She had features that looked too sharp in a face that still retained the roundness of childhood. Older than both Harry and Liam, she was the most popular girl in their tiny village, though she turned mean at the drop of a hat.

Taylor poked around in the wooden box on her lap. “And this is not hair from an unicorn’s mane- it’s one of Old Meredith’s white hairs!” she cackled.

Harry’s vision blurred as the tears welled in his eyes.

“Wait, I’ve g-got something else!” Harry cried, tripping over his words.

“They don’t exist, Harry,” Taylor cut over him. “Trolls and goblins and dragons and unicorns. It’s all in your silly little head.”

She got to her feet in one smooth move and shoved the box at him. “Grow up.”

Harry cradled the box to his chest, gulping down the sobs that threatened to burst from him. Liam shuffled closer and put an arm around him, pulling him in against his chest. Harry clutched at the back of Liam’s coarse cloth shirt, burying his face in the crook of his neck. Liam smelled like potatoes fresh out of the earth and a hint of sweat. He had just turned twelve, but he still played with Harry when he wasn’t working in his father’s field- even though the other boys made fun of him for it because they thought Harry was just a baby.

Harry wiped at his eyes and untangled the crown of flowers from his hair. It tore and the daisies fluttered to the ground.

“You believe it, right, Liam?”

Liam ducked his head. “I want to. I really want to, Harry. I just don’t know.”

Harry swallowed over the lump in his throat. “Remember when we found that fairy ring? That was real, Liam. It was.”

Liam’s brown eyes were thoughtful and earnest. “Maybe.”

Harry hugged the box closer. When he’d stepped inside the fairy ring he’d felt the change in the air: magic. A gust of wind had blown a mist of dandelion fluff over him and the sun had peeked out of from behind the clouds and made it all sparkle like ice in a winter morning. Liam had laughed, his eyes disappearing in crescents, mouth open in delight. They had run home and Harry had felt like he was flying.

“Taylor doesn’t know everything.” Liam gave a sharp nod. “She could be wrong.”

Harry peered up at him, tugging at his bottom lip.

“And those books Nick brings you. All those people can’t be wrong. There has to be _some_ truth to it.”

Harry smiled. “You just want Merlin to be real.”

“There’s no question about that!” Liam protested, pouting.

“Do you want to play knights of the round table?” Harry asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“On a quest to slay a dragon?” Liam grinned. He grabbed Harry’s hand and started pulling him back toward the village. “We need to fetch our swords.”

“But how will we get past the trolls?” Harry asked through a wide smile.

“We’ll need magic for that,” Liam replied, in a wise voice. He looked at Harry curiously. “I just remembered. I thought I knew everything that was in the box- what else have you got?”

“Oh.” Harry dipped his chin toward his chest. “It’s just a shiny stone. It’s stupid.”

Harry had found it inside the fairy ring. A small blue stone, rough-edged but smooth to the touch. Harry had fallen in love with it. It was a greenish blue like the water at the lake, with a tracery of fine golden lines like a cracked egg. His mum had mounted it on a bit of copper twine and made a ring of it, but Harry was too afraid of losing it to wear it.

“Maybe it’s a magic stone,” Liam told him, smiling and ruffling Harry’s hair.

Harry shrugged. “Maybe.”

Harry wasn’t sure if Liam believed or was just being kind, but his mother always said kindness was the greatest magic, and Harry could live without ever being sure if dragons and faeries existed, but it would be a sad world indeed without Liam as his friend.

 

Later that night Harry put his little box away under his cot before he got into bed. He had the ring with the little blue stone hidden in the space behind a bit of broken stone in the wall.  He took it out and admired the ring on his finger for a bit in the dim moonlight shining through the window.

“Are you magic?” Harry whispered, pressing the stone to his lips.

“It’s not going to talk to you, Harry. Go to sleep, little brother,” Gemma mumbled sleepily, turning over in her cot.

Harry kissed the stone once more before putting it back in its hiding place. He climbed into his sister’s bed instead of his own and made sure to sneak his cold toes between her ankles as he snuggled up next to her.


	2. Chapter 2

PART I

 

“Well done, Harreh. Yeh cut through the stitchin’ of me vest.” Mark shook his head, his face red from the cold rather than from exertion. Training took place behind the barn at the edge of the village, where the shed offered some protection from the wind. Even so their breath puffed visible in front of them as the sun set and light dwindled.

Mark gave a heavy sigh and handed his sword to Liam. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve.

Harry let his arm drop, the tip of the blunt sword drawing a line in the dirt next to his feet which insisted in pointing inward and messing with his balance.

“It’s not just yer footwork.”

Harry looked up in surprise.

Mark gave him an assessing look. “There’s nothin’ behind yer blows. Yeh got to mean it.”

“I’m not going to skewer you when we’re practicing,” Harry mumbled.

“Muscle is tough. Bone is hard. And that’s without the armor. That’s not a knitting needle, it’s a sword. And it’s made to kill.”

Harry glanced at Liam but his head was down and he couldn’t make eye contact.

“I don’t want to kill anyone.” Harry kicked a clump of dirt, head down. “I don’t even know why I’m doing this... I’m useless and it’s not like I’m about to head off to battle.” Harry shook his hair out in frustration. Strands stuck to his face with sweat.

“Ye gotta be prepared! And it’s not about wantin’- it’s about what doing what ye need to do.” Mark walked over to him and clapped him on the back. “Yer not useless. Ye just need to put some spirit behind it.”

He gave him another clap, then gathered his sword and jacket. “C’mon, we’ll be late for supper.”

Mark walked on ahead while Liam tarried to wipe some mud off his boots.

“‘My spirit is in the wind.’” Liam straightened from his crouch, grinning at Harry, who flushed. “Searching, swimming, spinning...” Liam singsonged.

“That’s not how it goes, Liam. Stop messing with my poem.” Harry giggled as Liam sang senseless words while clutching at the front of Harry’s shirt.

Harry stumbled out of his grasp, laughing.

Liam put his arm around his shoulder. “I don’t know why Mark just can’t see you’re a poet, not a fighter.”

“It’s not Mark. It’s Nick. He’s the one who insisted I learn, wasn’t he?” Harry mused as they walked down the empty street. It had grown dark and everyone was inside for supper.

“I can’t complain: he convinced me dad to let me learn to wield a sword instead of spending all my time growing potatoes,” Liam said.

“Are you really going to ask Nick to take you on as a squire?” Harry asked in a small voice.

Liam pulled his arm back and shrugged. “Doesn’t mean he’ll take me. Dirt poor as I am.”

“You know there’s an easier way to become a knight.”

 Harry tried to push back the wave of fear that came over him whenever the matter of Liam leaving Holmes Chapel came up.

“Hm, what’s that?”

“If you perform a service of extraordinary merit for a king or queen, they knight you,” Harry explained.

Liam chuckled. “Oh, I’ll just be off then. Find a dragon. Bring King Simon the head- wasn’t there talk about him offering a reward for something of the sort?”

There had been a lot of talk of the kind in the last few months. Of King Simon making deals with goblins and welcoming trolls into his army. Of witchcraft to maintain his youth and other stories of the sort. Harry didn’t know what to believe.

“Do you think that bit of dragon skin we found when we were children will be enough proof for the reward?” A corner of Harry’s mouth lifted in spite of himself.

Liam laughed. “D’you still have that? And... what was it- a troll’s tooth?”

“A finger,” Harry answered in a quiet voice, his smile dropping. He’d buried the box under a tree when he’d turned fourteen and Taylor wouldn’t stop making fun of him for it. The one thing he’d kept was the ring with the blue stone.

“We had fun in our little fantasy world, didn’t we?”

Harry’s smile was a little strained. “Yeah.”

They walked in silence as the darkness deepened around them.

“I guess I’m still living a fantasy... dreaming of being a knight, I mean,” Liam said as they reached his house.

“I’ll write to Nick, I promise.” And he would. Just because he wanted to keep Liam with him didn’t mean he had a right to keep him from fulfilling his dreams. Nick liked Harry. Harry was sure he’d do it if he asked, if only as a favor to him. That way Liam could get out of their dead-end village and Harry could keep on living in dreams and poetry. “Sir Payne in the arse.”

“Very funny.” Liam gave him a playful smack on the cheek. “G’night, H.”

“Night.”

Harry’s house was a little apart from the rest. It was small but more than enough for the three of them. His mother had a collection of ceramic pots which she filled with flowers in the spring and summer, but which yawned black in the winter darkness. Harry felt a stab of melancholy as he stood on the doorstep, looking up at the sky where a lone star twinkled all on its own for an instant before disappearing behind a cloud.

*

Harry didn’t register the noise at first as it wove into his dream: a troll sniffing around the bakery, upsetting wooden bowls and spoons with its broad, uncoordinated waddle. A crash of broken pottery just outside the window woke him up with a start. He opened his eyes and saw his sister sitting up in her bed; her posture seemed tense though he couldn’t see her face in the darkness. A horse outside the house neighed.

Harry must have made a sound without being aware of it because Gemma turned her head toward him. He still couldn’t make out her face, but the bit of light coming in through the window from the waxing moon reflected in her eyes.

“Stay here,” she whispered, scrambling off the bed and rushing to the door.

Harry swung his legs down and sat on the cot. He wanted to fetch his sword but he was sure he would trip over something in the dark. Straining his ears he thought he heard his mother and Gemma talking in hushed whispers in the next room.

Knocking, sharp and urgent. Harry jumped to his feet when he heard his mother’s footsteps approaching the door. After a moment there was another knock, one he recognized.

“Nick,” Harry breathed and stumbled out of his room. It _was_ Nick, looking travel worn, his hair a mess and his clothes, which he was usually so fastidious about, covered in dust, his boots muddy. There was someone with him: a woman in leather armor with large eyes and a wide mouth.

She flashed them a smile. “Evening.”  

“Hi.” Nick greeted them with an apologetic sigh. He bent down to give Anne a kiss on the cheek. “I think my horse trampled your pots into dust- he’s very particular about garden design.”

“I expect full reimbursement for those,” Anne replied jokingly, taking his cloak from him.

“Of course, of course,” Nick said, drumming his fingers on the back of a chair. “Shall we sit down?”

“Not just dropping by for a visit in the middle of the night then?” Gemma said as she finished up lighting some candles.

“I’m afraid not. I have some... news.” Nick sank into the chair the moment Anne had sat down.

Harry caught his mother’s quick, worried glance toward him.

“What’s happened?” Harry and Gemma asked at the same time.

“Oh, you know.” Nick looked anywhere but at Anne as he spoke. “The secret’s out and you’re all in mortal danger.”

“Shit,” Gemma blurted out with a bark of laughter.

Harry turned to his mother in confusion. She met his glance and shot him a small smile before her forehead creased again.

“What’s going on?” Harry asked when the silence stretched out.

His mother and sister exchanged a long, meaningful look while Nick offered Harry a lopsided grin. “Brace yourself, Harry. This is going to blow your mind.”

“Mum?” Harry wrapped his arm around his middle, scratched at his elbow. “What’s going on?”

Anne sighed.

“You should have told him before. I told you, mum,” Gemma muttered, reaching over to put her hand on Harry’s shoulder.

‘This is awkward,’ Harry heard the stranger woman say in an undertone from her position by the door.

“Harry,” Anne said in a soft voice. “Baby, there’s something I should have... Gemma’s right, I should have told you before, but I didn’t want to... burden you with a knowledge that wouldn’t- couldn’t- have any bearing on your life.”

Though Harry didn’t understand what was going on he could tell his mum was struggling, so went over to her and sat in the chair next to her. He took her hand and gave it an encouraging squeeze.

“Your father didn’t die thrown off his horse, Harry. He was murdered. The person who had him killed also wanted to get rid of his successors: you and Gemma. That’s why we came to Holmes Chapel.”

“But why would they want to do that?” Harry’s mouth had gone dry. “He was just a potter.”

“He wasn’t,” Gemma whispered. Her eyes were wet.

“He was the king, Harry,” Nick explained when Anne raised a trembling hand to her mouth, unable to speak.

Harry goggled at Nick. “The king?”

“Surprise!” Nick laughed nervously.

“Nick was a favorite of your father’s. Just a young squire then, but trustworthy and clever. He arranged to have us hide here. He saved our lives.” Anne reached for Nick who pressed his lips to her hand, inclining his head reverently.

“How did Simon find out that we’re alive?” Gemma asked. “And how are _you_ still alive if he knows everything?”

Nick shook his head. “Oh, he doesn’t know _everything_. Hardly. Give me some credit,” he huffed. “I would never have risked coming here if he suspected me.”

“So what happened?” Anne asked.

“Treason is what happened,” the stranger answered. She stepped closer, put her hand on the back of Nick’s chair. “Some people will do anythin’ for gold and Simon’s bloody made of gold.”

“‘Course he is, with how he’s been starving the kingdom,” Gemma groused.

“How did he find out?” Anne insisted.

“I believe it was Lady Flack. You knew her as Caroline, Harry’s nursemaid, remember her?”  Nick bit at the his thumb nail. “We paid her off back in the day but she must have got a better offer.”

“But he doesn’t know we’re here.”

“Not yet. But it’s only a matter of time. And he won’t stop hunting you until you’re all dead,” the stranger said.

“This is Rita, by the way,” Nick introduced the stranger. Rita winked at Harry when he raised his hand automatically in a small wave. “She’s a marvel. And instrumental to the plan.”

“What _is_ the plan?” Gemma asked. Harry could hear the quaver in her voice. He wasn’t sure if it was fear or excitement. He felt rather numb himself, in shock, not quite able to process what was going on.

“Anne has to go overseas. Too many people would recognize her- you’ve hardly aged, my dear.” Nick tipped an imaginary cap in Anne’s direction. “I think Gemma should go with you.”

Gemma frowned. “What about Harry?”

Nick smiled at Harry across the table. “My liege, I propose you set off on a dangerous journey to reclaim your throne and free the people from the tyranny of King Simon, what say you?”

Harry gaped at him. “What do I have to do?”

Nick chuckled but stopped when Anne shot him an unamused look. He turned to her, his face serious. “James agreed, Anne.”

Anne smiled. “I knew he would. He’s a good man.”

Harry glanced at Gemma who, for once, looked as confused as he was.

“Lord James of Corden has agreed to help. Of course, it is also in his interest. Simon has been eyeing him with suspicion for a long time now. This really couldn’t happen at a better moment, he’s on the verge of war with Simon as it is. You must get to him.”

Harry thought about the maps that Nick had sometimes brought with him through the years. If he remembered right Corden was leagues away. It would take him weeks and the roads were dangerous. Even as removed as they were in the village of Holmes Chapel, they still got stories of people who were attacked on the roads, by thieves and rogue soldiers.

He looked to his mum, whose brow was creased with worry. “Will you go with him?” she asked Nick. Anne turned to Rita. “Or you?”

Nick grimaced. “I have to go back. And Rita’s your guard to the seaport.”

“He can’t go alone!” Gemma burst out. “Have you seen him fight? Have you seen him _run_?”

“Hey,” Harry protested weakly. But the idea of setting off on a long journey on his own was daunting. He didn’t even want to think about the fact that there would be people trying to hunt him down.

“What about Liam?” Anne suggested.

Nick raised an eyebrow. “The puppy-faced boy who’s always gawking at me?”

Harry had a brief thought that he should be offended on Liam’s behalf, except it was kind of the truth.

“He can fight. And he can be trusted,” Anne said.

“I don’t know. I could ask him, I guess.”

Though Harry wasn’t sure if he _should_. Wanting to be a knight and setting off into the wild with a fugitive from the crown were two very different things.

Rita snorted. “You can make it a royal command, your highness.”

*

Leaving his mum and sister had been hard. Harry had cried and Anne had cried and Gemma had knuckled her eyes and cursed and fooled no one when she claimed she was tearing up because sand had blown into her eyes.

Harry had been taken aback when Gemma had told him to go pack while she helped Anne the moment the conversation had ended. He was in a bit of a daze. The fact that he was a prince was inconsequential next to the realization that he had to leave his home and separate from his family. In only a matter of hours he would be on the road leaving everything he had ever known behind him.

 

It was just before the break of dawn when Anne and Gemma rode off with Rita. There was a carriage waiting for them in the town of Cheshire which would take them down to the seaport.

Nick stayed behind with Harry. “Just until you stop crying enough to see where you’re going. No use you walking straight into a ditch.”

Harry appreciated it. He knew Liam would be up with the sun to help his family out in the field- he was usually the first one up, and Harry knew he could catch him alone.

“I can’t believe I almost forgot!” Nick slapped a hand to his forehead. He sat next to Harry at the kitchen table while they waited for the sun to rise. “Lord James doesn’t know you. You’ll need something to prove who you are.”

He gave Harry a token: a silver medallion on a thin silver chain. It was somewhat smaller than the width of his palm, engraved with a pair of swallows circling each other.

“This is from that story, isn’t it?” Harry turned it around: on the back it had a rose impaled by a dagger. “Wis and Ry.”

“Oh, yes. An ancient royal heirloom. If you have it you’re either royalty or a very good thief.”

Harry pulled the necklace over his head with reverence. The tale of Wis and Ry was one of his favorites: a tale of eternal love triumphing over death.

Nick patted his thigh. “I’ve got to go, Harry, before the whole village wakes up.”

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat. They shook hands. Then Harry broke down and hugged him tight. Nick was a friend. Through the years he would bring Harry books and maps whenever he visited and he always made him laugh. And now Harry found out that he was the main reason that his family was even alive.

“Thanks, Nick,” Harry sniffled into his chest. “I’ll make you a grand duke, if I ever get to be king.”

Nick laughed, patting his back. “Sounds splendid. I’ll be royalty! Now I’m even more invested in your survival.”

Harry watched him ride off, standing in the doorway, shivering in the frigid early morning air. He went back into the house and shouldered his pack after throwing on his warmest cloak. He tightened the belt of his scabbard, sheathed his sword with a shuddering breath.  He had a foot out the door when he remembered the little blue stone. It was silly, maybe, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave it behind. He hurried back to his room to fetch it, stuffing it into a pocket of his bag.

*

Harry took a deep breath. “Liam, I’m leaving. I’m leaving Holmes Chapel. I’ve got to- I’ve got to go.”

His kept his face to the canopy of bare branches above him. A leaf fluttered down and got caught in the curls that spilled over his shoulder. He pulled at his lower lip and glanced at Liam to see his reaction.

“Like... _right now_?” Liam moved to stand in front of Harry. He put his hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “ _Why?_ Harry, what’s wrong?”

“It’s kind of a long story.” A small laugh burst from his lips. “But I was hoping... maybe, like, it’s not... You don’t have to, but maybe-”

“I’m coming with you,” Liam interrupted him. He clapped his hands together, nodded. His brow furrowed: “Can I tell me mum and dad?”

“What are you going to tell them?” Harry’s smile was tremulous. “You don’t even know where we’re going!”

Liam gave a breathy laugh. “‘s true. But that doesn’t matter. I just want to let them know not to expect me home for dinner, you know?”

“You can do that.”

“All right. I’ll get my stuff. Wait for me here?”

“Liam, are you sure about this? It might be dangerous.” Harry’s hand went to the pommel of his sword without conscious thought. “It _will_ be.”

Liam turned back around, his face open and earnest. “All the more reason to go with you, mate.” He pulled Harry into a quick hug and kissed the top of his head. “I won’t be long!”

*

“Is this where we leave the path, your highness?” Liam teased.

Harry narrowed his eyes at him, mouth tight. “How long are you going to keep that up?”

They had been traveling for three days and ever since Harry had told him the truth about his parentage Liam had been throwing in ‘your majesty’ and ‘your highness’ every other sentence.

Liam chuckled. “Cut me some slack. I’m getting used to the idea of my best friend being a prince.”

“I’m still getting used to the idea myself,” Harry admitted.

Holmes Chapel being a rather isolated village they hadn’t met anyone while on the road. A narrow road, full of half buried rocks that Harry kept tripping over, stubbing his toes. At either side rolling fields of brittle frosted grass and faded heather.

Nick had given him a map with a series of natural landmarks to guide him to Corden. They couldn’t risk being on the road when Simon’s men were searching for him; Harry looked too much like his mum and they would be on the lookout for anyone suspicious who fit the description. When Harry had asked how they’d find out if the person they’d picked up was the one they were looking for, Nick had looked grim. ‘They have their ways’ was all he’d said. ‘Best not risk it.’

They trudged through the crackling grass until they could no longer see the road, and then some more, Harry stumbling over the occasional tussock.

“We’ll see anyone coming before they see us, I reckon,” Liam said thoughtfully as they settled for the night. “No fire, though.”

Harry nodded in resignation, huddled behind some shrubbery in an attempt to escape the chill wind. He couldn’t seem to remember what it was like to be warm.

The last couple of nights had been a teeth-chattering affair, waking himself up with his violent shaking. Liam seemed to have an easier time of it, sleeping through the night while Harry jolted awake and trembled in his arms.

“You shouldn’t be scared, you know,” Liam said quietly just as Harry was falling asleep.

Harry snuffled into the crook of Liam’s shoulder. He smelled like damp leather and a hint of sweat. “What if the people don’t like me? What if they don’t want me?” Harry whispered.

Liam’s huff of breath rustled the hair on Harry’s forehead. “People don’t generally get to _choose_ their king, you know that, right? You’re the rightful heir, that’s all that matters.”

Harry shook his head, pulling at laces of Liam’s coat. “I don’t want to be another imposition. I want them to be happy with their king.”

“Well, there you go.”

“Hm?”

“You care about the people. That’s the most important thing to be a good king,” Liam explained, rubbing Harry’s upper arm. “Everything else you can learn.”

Harry hid his smile against Liam’s chest. “King apprentice.”

He couldn’t see Liam’s face but he was sure he was rolling his eyes.

*

It was the eighth day since they’d left the village. The ice-covered fields after they abandoned the path had been succeeded by marshland and they’d spent three days plowing through slush and stagnant, half-frozen water.

When they reached dry land Harry was tempted to check for mold growing between his toes from the constant damp in his feet. He was irritable and Liam’s whistling had him grinding his teeth. He’d ended up snapping after Liam realized he’d read the map wrong so that they had walked for almost two miles in the wrong direction.

For the last hour Liam had maintained a sullen silence. He grunted when Harry mentioned they should have reached the next landmark by now.

“It’s not like we can see anything with this damn fog!” Liam burst after another half hour of tripping over shrubs. He cursed when he stepped right into a puddle.

Harry stopped to fuss with his hair, which was unmanageable because of the humidity, while Liam tried to wipe the mud off his boot.

The fog was so thick neither of them saw them coming.

Harry jumped when noticed the looming hooded creatures. There were four of them, each a different size, clothed in long robes.

“Good morning,” Harry said cautiously.

Liam had his sword half unsheathed when one of them stepped forward and drew back its hood: it was quite a small woman with very large eyes.

“Are you lost?” she asked.

“Um. Kind of.” Harry saw Liam wince at his answer in his peripheral vision.

“There’s no need to be afraid. I am called Jade, and these are my sisters.” Jade waved at the other three who came forward and crowded around Liam and Harry.

“That’s Perrie. Jessy. And Leigh-Anne.” Jade pointed at each in turn as they lowered their hoods.

“So where are you headed?” Jade asked.

“We can’t tell you that,” Liam said quickly before Harry could answer.

She raised her eyebrows and the others laughed. “Very well. You might like to know that there is an inn about five miles from here. The innkeeper is a friend to all creatures.”

“All creatures?” Liam’s brow furrowed.

“Perhaps not trolls or goblins... but then it’s unusual for them to frequent inns.” Perrie tittered.

“What manner are creatures are _you_?” Liam asked in a hushed voice.

“Witches, of course! Could you not tell?” Leigh Anne replied.

“We haven’t really met anyone who wasn’t… erm… human, before,” Harry explained.

“Oh. Well. We’re not so dissimilar, truly-”

“Only better,” Jessy interjected.

Jade shrugged, as though she couldn’t argue with that.

“So they _are_ real,” Harry marveled.

“Goblins?” Liam asked.

“Unfortunately, yes. There are some prowling around the area too- you might want to keep an eye out.”

“Trolls?”

“You’d not doubt they’re existence if you smelled them.”

“Faeries?”

“Of course! Who do you think is causing this unnatural fog?”

“What?”

“Why, you are a couple of country bumpkins!” Jade exclaimed to general laughter.

The four witches started talking, their voices so harmonious and their speech weaving together so that Harry could hardly follow who was speaking and who was not.

“You’ll not find faeries in a battle field, but the king has power over the forest and he’s been driving Simon’s men crazy with unseasonal floods and impenetrable fogs and twisting paths that lead nowhere.”

“He’s playing a dangerous game.”

“What choice did he have?”

“He could have just let Simon cut down a few trees and hunt a few deer and maybe he would have left the faeries alone.”

“Now Simon has it after him and his wrath isn’t to be taken lightly.”

“Are other creatures fighting against Simon too, then?” Harry asked.

Jade gave him a pitying look. “Oh, no. Simon has made deals with the goblins and recruited trolls for his army.”

“What about the witches?” Liam demanded.

“We’re undecided.” Jessie grinned in a sinister fashion.

“Simon has been interested in gaining our friendship…”

“There is one thing he fears above all else and that is growing old.”

“You can help with that?” Harry asked, bemused.

The witches exchanged amused glances. “We know a thing or two about that, yes. But we’re not quite willing to give our secrets away.”

“Meaning you’ll sell them for the right price?” Liam raised an eyebrow.

“Perhaps. Not that it’s any of your business. But Simon has dabbled in things he shouldn’t have and there are things we can’t forgive.”

“What did he do?”

“He killed a unicorn. Everybody knows if you ask nicely a unicorn will let you have a bit of his horn-”

“Powdered unicorn horn is a powerful restorative. It will bring you back from the brink of death!”

“He killed it instead...”

“Unforgivable.”

“Aren’t you going to help stop him? Like the faerie king is doing?” Liam frowned, crossing his arms over his chest.

The witches exchanged sly smiles. “The only thing that can stop him is the return of the rightful heir.”

“There’s not much we can do, really. Humble pilgrims as we are.”

“A spell of protection, to keep him in one piece until he stands before Simon, then it’s up to him...”

“If we _had_ such power.”

“But you’d best be on your way if you want to reach the inn before dark!”

Harry was surrounded all of a sudden. The witches bumped into him from all sides and Harry felt the hairs on his arms bristle and stand up beneath his shirt and coat.

“Good luck!”

There was echoing laughter and they were gone, disappearing into the fog. Liam ventured some distance away trying to find them.

“Vanished!” he puffed, running back to Harry.

Harry felt his mouth stretch in a grin. “They were _witches_ , Liam!”

Liam looked at him askance. “Why are you smiling like that? Did they put a spell on you?”

Harry felt laughter bubbling up inside him, warming him up. “Maybe.”

It was all real. The world was even more magical than he had imagined. He had a passing thought he should be more concerned about Simon but all he could think about was how marvelous it was that magic existed after all.

*

Harry and Liam were both distracted after their encounter with the witches. Enthralled by the idea of the magical creatures that wandered the earth, and speculating if they might not meet any more of them on their journey.

Liam went quiet all of a sudden. “I think we’re being followed.”

They stopped at the feet of a tall rock formation, cool and damp and taller than the both of them, with a thick layer of moss that left a green smear on Harry’s cloak when he leaned against it after shrugging off his bag to rest his back.

A sound like the bill-clattering of a stork reverberated around the small clearing. Harry exchanged a quick glance with Liam whose gaze shifted to something behind Harry. He gave a shout and leapt into the mist, drawing his sword.

Harry unsheathed his sword a foot out of the scabbard. The squelching noise alerted him to their presence: they stood no higher than his elbow but they had large hands and feet, with thick, sharp claws like a bear. The massive skull and mottled skin confirmed he was before a pair of goblins.

Harry gulped. He didn’t have time to pull out his sword before one of them lunged at him. Harry struggled to twist around against the rock face as the goblin tried to scratch at his chest. Its claws couldn’t penetrate the jerkin giving Harry the chance to grip it by the large, pointed ear and bang its head against the rock. It dropped to the ground, dazed. The other goblin who had been rummaging in Harry’s bag, looked up and grinned at him, razor sharp and needle thin teeth in full display.

Harry’s heart jumped to his throat when he spotted his blue stone ring poking out between the goblin’s fingers, tight in its grip. He drew his sword and pointed it at the creature, chest heaving.

“You can take the gold, but please give that back.”

The goblin held out the ring and made that strange, clattering noise they had heard before. Harry thought it might be laughing. He lunged and smacked the flat of his blade on its hand. The goblin dropped the ring with a howl.

Harry cringed. “Sorry. I don’t want to hurt you-”

The goblin jumped on him, yanking his hair so hard Harry stumbled, out of balance. Claws tangled in the chain around his neck though they didn’t break skin.

The creature made a sound of pleasant surprise and pulled at the medallion’s chain, breaking it. He jumped off Harry and danced just out of reach, cackling, dangling the medallion in one hand.

“No, please!”

“You can keep your trinket, goldilocks,” the goblin jeered.

Harry heard Liam calling his name, along with the pounding of his boots. The goblin hoisted his companion over his shoulders and ran off while Harry stood with his sword dragging on the ground.

“What happened? Harry, are you hurt?” Liam tugged at Harry’s jerkin, which was ripped down the front.

Harry shook his head numbly. “They took the medallion.” He turned to Liam, wide-eyed, and cried out when he noticed the blood.

“It’s fine. One of the buggers tried to bite off my fingers but I cut it down before it got a good hold.” Liam shrugged. “Took my coin purse, though.”

He peered into the fog and waved his hand at the footprints in the mud. “We could go after them?”

“No, it’s useless,” Harry said, crouching down to pick up the ring. He wiped the mud off on the cuff of his sleeve, head bowed.

Liam sighed, going over to Harry and rubbing the back of his neck with his thumb. “It’ll be easier to think of something once we’re warm and out of this damn damp. C’mon, the inn’s gotta be close.”

*

They reached the inn after the sun had set. The warm, inviting squares of light in the distance had driven them on for the last stretch of the way. Although Liam had thought to hide a bit of coin in the roll of his sock, there wasn’t enough to pay for lodging and supper. After some thought they had decided to pose as a traveling minstrel and his guard. Harry wasn’t too keen on the idea of singing in front of a full house of lodgers, but it was a good cover story, and the only solution they could think of to their predicament, barring outright begging.

The innkeeper, a red-headed young man named Ed, agreed to hear them out. He offered supper and a place by the fire for the night if the crowd was well entertained. ‘If you’re really good I might even throw in a bite of breakfast!’

Harry was nervous. Tired from all the walking and upset at losing the medallion, even though he was avoiding thinking about that. He had no instrument and his singing had been a rather private affair up until this moment. The knowledge that much needed warmth and sustenance were depending on his voice not breaking or his not forgetting the words was not helpful.

He took a seat on a high stool, cleared his throat. He could feel the people watching him, expectant, a low murmur filling the room. He sang the first song that came to mind in his melancholy state over the loss of the medallion. A story he loved and a ballad he knew well.

He started singing with his eyes closed, voice wavering at first, then growing stronger as he lost himself in the song.

When he started on the second part he opened his eyes: some of the patrons smiled at him, while others nodded in approval. A blur of strange faces until he saw him- Harry had never seen anyone so beautiful in his life. He had a look of intense concentration on his face, lips parted, sharp, glittering eyes trained on Harry. Harry’s breath caught in his chest and his voice faltered for an instant when they locked eyes.  

As he finished the song, the boy smiled. The angularity and sharpness softened, his cheeks rounding out and his eyes crinkling. Harry felt a little more breathless than was usual after just one song.

“Alright, mate. You can definitely stay.” Ed clapped him on the back, forcing him look away from the mysterious boy.

“Cheers,” Harry replied, distracted.

“Have a drink. It would have been on the house, but that fellow over there insisted on buying.” Ed pointed at a pink-cheeked young man with hair the color of faded straw peeking out beneath a soft hat, and a huge grin on his face; he waved enthusiastically and came over to them. Despite the heat from the fire and the human bodies in the room, he was wearing a long cloak thrown over his back.

“Hi, I’m Niall.” He gave Harry a one-armed embrace as a greeting. “Yeh got a great voice, mate.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, grinning.

“Have that pint on me and then how ‘bout singin’ somethin’ together, yeah? Somethin’ a bit more cheerful?” Niall took a long drink of the ale he’d brought with him.

“Sure.” Harry laughed.

“I’m not letting everyone eat for free!” Ed warned jokingly.

Niall waved him off. “We’re paying customers, Ed. And generous tippers too.”

Harry couldn’t help looking around to see if he could spot the boy from before, but he seemed to have disappeared. He caught Liam’s eye in a corner of the room and waved him over. Niall had a fresh pint with Liam and Harry, clinking their mugs so hard the froth spilled over, to celebrate making their acquaintance.

Liam hissed when it ran over his injured hand, which he’d wrapped clumsily with a strip of cloth torn from his shirt.

Niall grabbed his hand and frowned at it. “Goblin bite?”

Liam blinked, hesitated too long, but Niall paid no mind to his suspicious response.

“I’ve got something for that,” he said, reaching into the small satchel at his hip.

He spread an ointment on Liam’s hand, whistling. “How’s that feel? Better, right?”

Liam stared at his hand. “That’s some miraculous medicine.”

Niall laughed into his mug.

 

Harry sang another song with Niall once they finished their beer, several of the patrons joining in for the chorus of the popular song. Harry thought he caught glimpses of the boy throughout the night, while he was singing, and even when he sat down for a late supper with Liam. Niall had already eaten, but he claimed it wouldn’t be right to sit and chat with them while they ate if he wasn’t eating too. What Harry found a little odd was his reluctance to take off his cloak. Harry only half paid attention to Liam and Niall’s conversation, preoccupied with the beautiful boy, but whenever he turned his head, he was gone.

Harry and Liam had arrived late at the inn and it wasn’t long before people began drifting upstairs to sleep.

Three men remained in the common room. They had arrived at the inn after Harry and Liam with mud-caked heavy boots and big swords at their hips. Harry had overheard the leader of the trio, who had introduced himself as Ben, wheedling Ed into letting them sleep in the common room as there weren’t any rooms available. The three of them sat against a wall, wrapped themselves in their cloaks, and went to sleep.

Niall sprawled on a bench, pulling his hat low over his eyes while Liam settled by the fire, shooting Harry a sleepy smile as he nestled under his cloak.

Harry sat at the bar, nursing the same pint he’d had for hours, unable to settle despite his tiredness.

“Harold, the traveling minstrel...”

Harry almost knocked his mug over in surprise as the boy he’d been thinking about materialized out of nowhere and clambered onto a stool next to him. Like Niall he was wearing a cloak, and a soft hat over hair that feathered out to almost touch his shoulders. In the gloom, the only light coming from the fire in the hearth, he reminded Harry of a charcoal drawing, all sharp angles and smudges.

“I don’t believe that for a minute,” the boy continued, smiling at him, sharp teeth catching briefly on his lower lip.

Harry cleared his throat. “If you must know, my name is actually Harry.”

“Did you think of that alias all by yourself?”

Harry could tell the boy was fighting back a smile. He schooled his own face into a serious expression and gave a bit of a shrug. “I’m keeping it simple.”

“Oh, yes, I can see that.” The boy gave a little shake of his head. “Actually... it’s rather smart.”

Harry felt a grin pulling at his lips even though he didn’t know where the boy was going with that.

“‘Harold the minstrel’ will definitely stand out among all the fancier names: Blondel and Leofrick and Berinon.”

A honking laughter escaped Harry. “You just made those up!”

“Those are absolutely real names!” the boy said with exaggerated indignation.

Harry giggled into his mug. “What’s _your_ name?” He bit his lower lip as he raised his eyes to the look at the boy.

“Gorvenal of Gillygate,” the boy answered promptly.

Harry dissolved into a fresh batch of giggles. “It’s not!” He glanced at Liam who’d stirred at the noise.

“No, it’s not,” the boy admitted, his eyes turning into half-moons when he grinned.

Harry couldn’t believe how pretty he was. In the village they’d called Taylor the prettiest girl but she had nothing on this boy- the prettiest pictures in the books Nick had brought him couldn’t compare.

“What is it?” Harry insisted.

The boy stared at him pensively, the hint of a smile still on his face.

“It’s Louis. And I meant it,” Louis said. “With your voice you should be in court, not wandering the edge of the wilderness singing for a place by the fire.”

Harry grinned, flushing. “You think so?”

“I reckon, yeah.” Louis’ shoulders raised as he laughed breathily, covering his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I’m glad I’m not, though. In court.”

“Hm?”

“I wouldn’t have met you then.” Harry nudged Louis’ knee with his own, feeling bold.

Louis raised his eyebrows. “Are you implying I look like I don’t belong in court?”

“No, no!” Harry floundered. “You look like a prince. I just mean-”

Louis chuckled. “I know what you meant,” he said, patting Harry’s arm.

Harry’s breath came out in a short, audible burst of relief. It made his face heat up, but Louis smiled at him, and didn’t remove his hand from Harry’s wrist.

“Do you sing?” Harry asked after a bit, once he felt he could talk without stuttering.

Louis made a little ‘mmm’ noise and tilted his head from side to side, his knee jerking.

Harry wanted nothing more than to hear him sing. He loved his speaking voice, he could imagine how sweet his singing had to be. “I like your voice. I’m sure you can sing really well.”

Louis gave Harry a look from beneath his eyelashes, head tilted to the side. “You are a right charmer, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know… is it working?”

Louis threw his head back when he laughed. “A little bit.”

Harry smiled so wide his cheeks hurt.

 

Harry lost track of time talking to Louis. In the back of his mind he had a passing thought that he should get some sleep: there was a drag in his limbs after the run-in with the goblins and they couldn’t afford (both figuratively and literally) to tarry at the inn. But he’d never felt more awake... everything else faded in contrast with this moment... with the fan of Louis’ eyelashes and the curve of his lips and the sound of his laughter and his smell- of pine trees and something sweet, like freshly baked dough.

It wasn’t until he noticed the room was getting lighter that he became aware the night had passed and dawn was sneaking up on them. The fire had burned low without anyone tending to and Harry’s feet were cold even if the rest of him was warm.

Louis looked out the window with a faint frown on his face before turning to Harry, bottom lip between his teeth. He danced his fingers on the bar surface, brushing against Harry’s hand.

“Sing for me? Just the last stanza of Wis and Ry? Please?”

Harry didn’t even think to refuse. He sang in a low voice, keeping his gaze fixed on Louis who listened to him with his head bowed and eyes closed. When he finished, Louis looked up, his expression unreadable. He reached out to touch Harry’s hair on his shoulder before the tips of his fingers trailed up his neck, then brushed against his jaw and cheek.

Harry leaned into the touch, barely breathing.

He was trembling as he let the back of his knuckles smooth over Louis’ neck and he couldn’t keep his eyes from dropping to his mouth when Louis tilted his head, lips parted. Harry reached back to cup the back of his head, his fingers slipping under the soft hat. It slipped off and fell to the floor, but neither of them reacted, moving closer, so that Harry could feel Louis’ soft exhalation on his face.

Harry’s thumb brushed over the lobe of his ear then over the pointed tip, their lips almost touching. Louis drew in a sharp breath and pulled back. Harry felt like he’d skipped a step on a staircase. It took him a moment to process what he’d felt and it didn’t quite register until he saw them: Louis had pointy ears. Definitely not human.

“Shit.”

Harry blinked at him. “You’re-”

Louis knocked over the stool as jumped off, shaking his head. Out of the corner of his eye Harry noticed Liam’s brow furrow as he woke up. He didn’t notice the stranger until he spoke.

“A faerie!” Ben shouted, getting to his feet in one smooth move, drawing his sword. “Didn’t I tell you?” He turned to his companions with a sharp grin.

“Niall!” Louis called in a loud voice, clutching the bar in a white-knuckled grip.

Niall woke with a snort, feet banging on the floor as he sat up. “Whazzapenning?”

He dragged his hat over his forehead and peered at Louis and Harry in confusion. He had his back to Ben and the other two men.

“Got to go, Niall!”

Niall frowned, rubbed his eyes. “What? Why?”

“For god’s sake, Niall!” Louis had been moving down the bar, closer to the door.

Niall rolled off the bench and stumbled to his feet, muttering. One of the men lunged at him and got a grip on a corner of his cloak. Niall gave a strangled yelp and as he struggled to escape the man’s hold, the cloak twisted, uncovering his back to reveal a set of wings. Translucent, veined in dark green, the membrane orange in a fading gradient from the base to the tips. They reminded Harry of dragonfly wings, except they spanned almost three feet. He glanced at Louis, amazed at the thought that he was hiding his own pair of wings underneath the cloak.

There was a collective gasp.

“Blood hell!” The man released Niall’s cloak, stumbling back.

Ben laughed. “They’ll fetch a handsome reward at court!” He spun his sword lazily as the other two men moved to block the door.

Niall hurried to join Louis, standing in front of him he pulled out a short dagger from his boot. “You don’t want to fight us. It won’t go well fer you, just sayin’.”

The men burst out laughing.

“You’re no match for us!”

“They’re not alone,” Liam said, stepping forward, sword drawn.

Ben raised a hand up, palm out, conciliatory. “There’s no need for anyone to get hurt. We just want the faeries, it’s nothing to do with you.”

Liam stood his ground while Harry thought about what to use for a weapon since his sword was against the far wall, out of reach.

“C’mon, boys, do you know how much Simon is offering for a faerie?” Ben raised his sword again. “Now, are you going to step aside? Or are we going to have a problem?”

“We’re definitely going to have a problem,” Louis answered. “And it might be a bigger problem for you that you expect.”

Ben shrugged. “Try not to kill the faeries. They’re probably worth more alive.”

It happened so fast Harry almost missed it. The dagger flew out of Niall’s hand, whizzing through the air before embedding itself in the one of the men’s hands. The man let out a strangled yell, sword clattering as it fell from his grasp.

“Wait,” Harry gasped, taken aback.

Ben snarled and lunged at Niall, but Liam intercepted him, their swords clanged as they engaged. Harry saw the other man make a move toward Liam, sword high, and he threw himself on his back, knocking him to the floor.

The mercenary was larger and heavier than Harry; he got a hold on his throat and squeezed, making him choke. Harry thumped the man on the back but his blows were weak.  The foot came out of nowhere, although small in size and wearing soft leather, it connected with the side of the man’s head with enough force that it was jerked back, his hands going limp around Harry’s throat. Still trying to draw in breath without coughing, Harry saw Louis smash a tankard over the mercenary’s head. The pewter mug dented, and the man fell to the side, holding a hand up to his head, groaning.

There was a cry of pain and the next instant Liam was pulling Harry to his feet and herding them all out the door, as Ben, clutching his upper arm, growled out a curse.

“Follow me!” Louis started running.

Niall and Louis were very fast. They ran over the short grass and dirt in front of the inn and plunged into the forest.

Liam and Harry skidded to a stop in front of the line of trees. Liam shot Harry a quick glance: venturing into the forest hadn’t been part of their plan. Harry glanced back and saw Ben and his men were catching up.

They ran.

Though Liam was bent over with both of their bags- he’d managed to snag them both before their escape- he kept a tight grip on Harry’s hand, pulling him along whenever Harry stumbled on tree roots and underbrush.

“Wait!” Liam shouted after Niall and Louis as they raced on ahead.

The ground sloped down all of a sudden and Harry couldn’t stop in time. His hand was wrenched out of Liam’s and he tumbled down the steep bank side. Bruised and aching, he had the air knocked out of him as he landed on his back, his head bouncing hard.

He heard Liam shout his name as though from a long distance. Harry wanted to call back but he couldn’t find his voice. His ears were ringing.

He pushed himself up on his elbows with difficulty, squelching in the mud. He was at the water’s edge of a narrow river, green and choked with vegetation.

“I’m alright,” Harry gasped. Liam was still shouting somewhere above him.

Harry thought he was hallucinating when he saw it: two luminous yellow eyes with slit pupils. He shook his head, trying to clear his vision, but they were still there. Along with two rows of razor sharp teeth. The creature poked its horned head out from between the reeds, hissing.

A small avalanche of rocks and dirt preceded Liam as he scrambled down the slope. “Harry, are you all right?” he called, half-way down.

Harry needed to warn Liam but he was afraid to startle the creature who slithered forward, revealing a body the size of a calf with rugged skin like a toad.

“Liam. Don’t come down,” Harry said, voice hoarse.

“What?” Liam’s foot skidded and more rocks cascaded down. One of them bounced on the creature’s back. It hissed again and whipped its spiked tail.

“There’s a-” Harry wasn’t sure what he would have said: a dragon? Was that what it was? But he didn’t get the chance as the creature barreled into him, hitting his chest hard, snapping its jaws.

He dimly heard Liam calling out his name as jaws closed around his arm. The teeth didn’t sink into his flesh, however, they scraped his arm as Liam pulled it off him, gripping it by the tail.

Harry groped around him for a sharp rock, disoriented. He hesitated too long before trying to hit it and the creature twisted around to attack Liam, knocking Harry onto his back with the force of his body.

Harry looked up at the distant sky, the light grey of a day that promised rain, and felt a spattering of something wet on his face... too thick and warm to be rain. His eyes closed as white noise filled his head.

Very faintly, just before he lost consciousness, he thought he heard Louis’ voice calling his name.

 


	3. Chapter 3

PART II

 

Harry blinked awake. For the briefest moment he thought himself in his room back home, a simple apprentice baker who dreamed of being a poet. Then he shifted and the ache in his body dispelled the illusion.

He was lying on a very comfortable bed, bigger than he was used to, wearing a clean, loose cotton shirt that he was pretty certain was Liam’s.The room was bathed in the golden light of early afternoon, streaming in through high, arched windows, with frames carved with leaves and flowers. The room smelled fresh, and was cool but not cold, and Harry thought he could go back to sleep if he stretched out the soreness of his muscles.

The soft trill of a lute broke off.

“Oh, you’re awake! Good. I was gettin’ bored.” Niall was sitting in a chair on the other side of the bed, instrument in hand.

“What happened? Where am I? Where’s Liam?”

“You met a marsh dragon and lived to tell the tale. So that’s good.”

“Marsh dragon?”

“Yeah. They come down into the forest, sometimes. You must be charmed: it only scratched yeh… if it had bitten you- I’m guessin’ you’re fond of yer arm?”

“Liam killed it.”

Niall nodded, looking impressed. “We didn’t realize you two were so slow, to be honest. We doubled back to fetch you and found _you_ unconscious and Liam covered in blood.”

“Liam’s all right?”

“Yeah, yeah. Zayn’s babysitting him.” Niall sniggered. “He didn’t put up a fuss once Liam came in from his bath without a shirt on. Liam _did_ wait until he was certain you were fine, though.”

Harry chuckled and winced at the pain from the pull on his ribs.

“ _Am_ I fine?” Harry sat up with some difficulty and contemplated his bandaged arm.

“Sure you are!” Niall wiggled his fingers and eyebrows. “Patched you up myself. Give it a couple of days and you’ll be as good as new.”

“You’re a healer?”

“Mhm. I can’t grow an arm back or anything like that, but the magic goes well with regular treatment,” Niall explained. “We’ve all got our bit of magic, faeries.”

That made Harry become aware of the wings. He’d caught sight of them at the inn, but it was different seeing them extended.

Niall caught him staring. “We can hide ‘em.” He stood up and flexed his wings so that they closed over his back. “They’re quite flexible. It’s just not comfortable to do it all the time.”

Harry stared at him, wide-eyed, and made a sound of amazement.

Niall laughed. “Not scared of faeries, are yeh? I think Liam was afraid we were going to eat him for a bit.”

“I don’t think so,” Harry said slowly. “I’m not afraid of _you_. Or Louis.” Harry’s heart flip-flopped in his chest. “Where _is_ Louis?”

“Busy with some stuff,” Niall replied. “Let’s go. There’s someone you need to meet.”

 

Niall guided Harry down a series of corridors with overarching columns made of slender, smooth white trees, then through a door into an inner courtyard.  

The sound of laughter and soft voices lead them down a winding path of white stones until they reached a tinkling fountain. Sitting around it was a group of female faeries of different ages. They all had an obvious family resemblance and struck an unexplainable chord of familiarity in Harry.

The oldest of the group, whom he guessed might be about the same age as his mum, looked up as Niall and Harry approached.

“Hello.” She smiled at Harry as she finished braiding the hair of one of the little girls.

Harry raised his hand in a shy wave. “Hi, I’m Harry.”

She looked him over as though she were sizing him up. Harry swallowed, suddenly all too aware of the way his toes had a tendency to turn in and his bad posture. He shook out his hair and straightened his back.

The oldest girl snorted.

“Welcome. We’re very glad to have you as our guest, Harry,” the woman said, her expression benign.

“Thanks.”

“We’ve had human guests before-”

“-under invitation though...” the oldest girl interjected.

“Hush, Lottie. Don’t embarrass your brother.”

“Sorry,” Harry gasped. “I never meant to intrude. It just kind of happened.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. We’re very grateful to you and your friend.”

“I didn’t really do anything,” Harry was quick to explain. “I just fell down a river bank.”

Lottie and the other girls giggled.

“You didn’t turn your back and allow those men to take Niall and Louis, though.”

“Of course not!”

The woman beamed. “I’m Jay.”

“Nice to meet you,” Harry said automatically.

Jay introduced her children: Lottie, Fizzy, Daisy and Phoebe, Doris and Ernest. Harry was fascinated by the tiny wings on the babies and cuddled them both while he told Jay about himself. Harry told her about baking and reading poetry, and shared a snack of fruit pastries and milk with the family.

Before he left, Jay informed him there was to be a feast that night, in his and Liam’s honor, for the king to welcome them officially to the kingdom.

“It’s just dinner and a bit of music and dancing, don’t stress about it.” Niall patted his back. “Although everyone’s kind of expecting you to sing somethin’.”

“What?”

“Word got around. We love to hear some new songs and voices.”

“Right.” Harry gulped. He looked down at himself. “Am I... I’m not sure these clothes are... If I’m going to be entertaining royalty, I mean.”

Niall cracked up. When he calmed down he wouldn’t explain what was so funny. “We don’t really stand on ceremony here, but we can find you something fancier to wear, if you want.” He nodded and locked arms with Harry. “Let’s go find Zayn. I bet he’ll love to dress Liam up too.”

*

Liam ran over to Harry the moment he caught sight of him and crushed Harry in his arms. Harry swallowed back the pained noise that rose to his throat, but all it took was one look at his face for Liam to wince and apologize.

He dragged Harry over to meet Zayn, who greeted Harry with a curt nod and a suspicious look Harry didn’t understand.

Liam and Harry got a chance to speak when Niall took Zayn apart to discuss their outfitting.

Liam was glowing. “This place is something else, Harry.”

“It’s beautiful,” Harry agreed. He had seen little of it but he was already enamoured of the trees and the light and the sweet scent of pine.

Harry bit back a grin when Liam’s eyes flitted to Zayn. Zayn _was_ quite a sight with that face and his iridescent green wings with black venation.

“Zayn’s been showing me around,” Liam said. “He’s really great.”

Harry had to take Liam’s word for it, because Zayn didn’t really talk to Harry much, staying by Liam’s side and going on about how brave Liam had been, and how impressive it was that he’d slain a dragon and not been injured in the process.

The court tailor picked out some fancier clothes for them to wear that night and did a quick fitting before sending them off so he could make the necessary adjustments. He seemed especially preoccupied with patching up the holes in the back through which faeries fitted their wings.

Walking back to their rooms to get some rest before the feast, Harry had to ask, “Will I see Louis at the feast?”

“There’s a good chance, yeah.” Zayn smirked. Niall laughed, but neither of them explained what they found so funny.

Later, Harry dozed off trying to think of what song would be a good choice to sing before the king of faeries.

*

The feast took place in a vast dining hall, lit by a multitude of beeswax candles and the moonlight streaming in through the high windows. Several rows of long tables faced a raised two-level platform on which sat a magnificent throne of white wood. It was empty when Harry sat down to dinner, at the table closest to the dais, with Jay and her children. Niall sat beside him and Zayn and Liam on the other side in front of him.

“Isn't Louis eating with us?” Harry asked after they were done with the first course and Louis still hadn’t showed up.

Niall shrugged. “Guess not.”

The food was delicious, and Harry was scraping the last of his pudding from the plate when a murmur rose from the crowd.

‘Finally,’ Harry heard Zayn mutter, looking somewhere over Harry’s shoulder. Harry turned his head to see: it was Louis, dressed in fine clothes and with a silver crown like wild vines resting on his forehead, his wings flittering behind him as he hurried up the side of the hall toward the dais.

“Harry,” Liam groaned and Niall closed Harry’s mouth, which had fallen open. Harry couldn’t even feel embarrassed: Louis was gorgeous. And Harry was fascinated by his wings: the silver venation as delicate as rain caught in a spider’s web, and the tint of the membrane a gradient of shimmering blue.

“Sorry I’m late. I trust everyone had a good dinner. Nobody’s appetite seems to have suffered by my absence- good to know I’m missed.” Louis stood on the tier and addressed the court.

There was laughter. Zayn snorted.

“As you all know by now- because nobody here can keep a secret- we’ve got some guests. Please welcome Harold, the wandering minstrel.”

Niall poked Harry until he got to his feet so everyone could see him. He gave a small wave.

“And his bodyguard, Liam... who can now introduce himself as Liam Dragon-Slayer if he likes.”

Zayn’s scowl cleared as Louis finished his introduction and Liam blushed, pressing his palms to his cheeks at the cheering when he stood up.

Harry and Liam both sat down, grinning wide.

“So, welcome! Enjoy your stay. Don’t do anything too stupid and you might just get out of here alive.” Louis waved a hand and a couple of faeries, one with a flute and one with a lute sat on the lower level of the platform and began playing.

“I thought you said I had to sing something tonight?” Harry turned to Niall.

Niall laughed. “Oh, mate, didn’t I say? It was just a bit of a joke. No singin’ until your chest is healed, sorry.”

Louis went over to Jay and gave her a kiss on the cheek. She whispered something in his ear and he shook his head, smiling tightly, before coming over to them.

“‘Evening, boys,” he greeted them.

“Where’ve you been?” Niall asked.

“Doing kingly things, Niall. And that’s thirsty work, so hand me a glass of wine, will you?”

Louis said, squeezing into the bench next to Harry.

Harry jumped at the chance and hurried to hand Louis the wine. In his haste, he spilled some of it on him, staining the cuff of his sleeve. “Ooops.” Harry grimaced, fighting back nervous laughter.

Louis looked down at his sleeve with his mouth open. “An attack upon the royal person is a punishable crime, you know.”

Harry batted his eyelids. “Don’t we get special dispensation? For saving your life, and all.”

That surprised a laugh out of Louis. “I think you might have suffered a worse injury than we thought if that’s the version of events you remember.”

Harry smiled wide. “I remember jumping on a large, scary looking man to help you escape. And, honestly, I don’t think this feast is going to cut it when it comes to giving us proper homage.”

Louis licked his lips briefly. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

Harry stared at Louis’ mouth and licked his own lips, heat spreading through his body.

“Please stop.” Liam thumped his forehead against the tabletop.

Harry turned to him with a slight frown. Niall, red-faced, burst into laughter.

“We’re all sitting _right here_ ,” Zayn muttered.

Louis sniffed. “That’s easily remedied.”

“You can exile them from the table,” Harry suggested, giggling.

“Excellent idea, Harry.” Louis nodded grandly. “Anyone not interested in me and Harry’s sparkling conversation can get lost.”

“Fine. Liam and I have our own _sparkling_ conversation to attend to,” Zayn said.

Harry laughed at Liam’s wide-eyed expression. “Do we?” Liam asked, voice high.

Zayn hooked his arm around Liam’s neck and led him away from the table.

Harry watched Louis looking at them until he caught Harry staring. Harry just smiled at him and felt giddy when Louis ducked his head, struggling to contain a grin. Harry became all too aware of where their thighs were touching and their arms brushing.

“Niall?” Louis asked. Harry turned to look at Niall who shrugged.

“I don’t mind. You two are cute.”

“Thanks, Niall. That’s sweet of you to say.” He shot Harry an alarmed, questioning look.

“Won’t you play something for everyone?” Harry asked Niall with feigned innocence.

Niall grinned. “Sure I will.”

Louis leaned on his elbow on the table, smiling, once Niall had left. “Smooth, Harold,” he praised.

Harry beamed.

“Now hand me that wine or I won’t last the night.”

Harry noticed with concern that Louis’ hand was shaking when he took the goblet. He shot Louis a questioning look, but Louis only raised the goblet to his mouth and drank deeply.

Harry forgot about the world around them as he talked with Louis. It was as though they were back at the inn, just the two of them in a circle of light with Louis’ soft voice and conversation and enough laughter to make his ribs ache again. They didn’t really talk of anything important... just recipes and bits of songs and flowers and birds.

After a while, Daisy and Phoebe came to beg Louis to dance with them. Louis hesitated for a moment before he took a deep breath and pushed himself to his feet. He took one of their hands each in his own. “Sorry, Harry, but the princesses have spoken!”

“Want to dance?” Harry asked Fizzy when he caught her looking wistfully at the area cleared for dancing.

“Yes, please,” she said quickly. Her smile dropped the next instant as a look of realization crossed her face. “Are you sure you’re all right to dance? You were injured, weren’t you?”

“I’m fine,” Harry assured her, though his ribs twinged when he gave her a bit of a bow. “Not going to lift you in the air, though, if that’s all right.”

She smiled. “I guess it’ll have to do.”

After a while the twins insisted they wanted to dance with Harry as well, so the three of them spun in place, their golden wings sparkling in the candle light, until Lottie came to fetch them, since it was past their bedtime.

Harry was left stranded in the middle of the dance floor while the faeries pranced around him. Fizzy had found another dance partner, her rose wings blurring as she twirled. Niall nearly flattened him as he swept past him, hand in hand with Liam of all people.

“ _There_ you are. Stan distracted me- he can’t handle his wine.” Louis put a hand on Harry’s waist, a quick touch before he pulled back.

“Will you dance with me?” Harry asked abruptly, before he lost his nerve.

Louis’ face lit up, though he wavered before taking Harry’s hand. “I don’t know if I’d call what you were doing dancing,” he teased.

“Hey,” Harry protested.

He fit one hand on Louis’ waist and clasped Louis' hand with the other. He felt huge and ham-handed at first when they started moving, a little unnerved at Louis’ petite frame and delicate wings.

They dipped and swayed to a lively tune and Louis gave Harry a twirl. The twist jarred his side, making him hiss through his teeth.

“Shit, I’m sorry!” Louis gasped, spreading his palm on Harry’s chest.

Harry wanted to finish the dance but Louis wouldn’t hear of it.

“You should have said something before, Harry. Since I wasn’t thinking,” Louis admonished him while they walked back to Harry’s room.

“I really wanted to dance with you,” Harry said simply.

Their hands brushed, and Harry reached out just enough to tangle their fingers together loosely for an instant. He heard Louis’ little sharp intake of breath but he didn’t say anything the rest of the walk to Harry’s room.

“If you like, I can show you around tomorrow? If you want-” Louis leaned a shoulder against the door frame, his wings fluttering, voice higher than Harry had heard it before.

“Yes. I’d love to. Yes.” Harry cut him off.

They smiled at each other.

Harry watched Louis walk down the hall and the moment he stepped into the room he clapped his hands in delight. He lay in bed trying to find a comfortable position for his sore side, going over how pleasant the whole night had been, and getting butterflies whenever the thought of spending the day with Louis tomorrow crossed his mind.

It wasn’t until he was almost asleep that he thought of his mother and sister. He dreamt of eyes as blue as the sea.

*

The next morning, Harry woke up too early and ended up pacing around his room for an hour before Louis came to pick him up for his tour around the palace. In the light of day, without the crown and the formal attire, Louis looked softer, and a little tired. Younger too. Although Harry had no idea how faeries aged. He knew very little about faeries, in general.

“Oh, we’re not that different from humans. It’s really just...” Louis replied to Harry’s question.

“The magic?” Harry filled in, thinking of what the witches had said.

Louis gave him an odd look. “Pretty much.”

Harry shook his head but didn’t elaborate. Talking about the witches might raise questions he didn’t want to answer, but he _was_ curious.

“What kind of magic do you have?” Harry asked. “Niall said he has healing magic.”

Louis nodded. “My magic isn’t quite so straightforward. I’m a pathfinder.”

Harry had no idea what that meant and it must have showed on his face. Louis shrugged. “It’s hard to explain. And I’m not going to try to do it over breakfast.”

The two of them had breakfast alone in a secluded little courtyard, and later went for a stroll along a garden path, walking so close that their shoulders and arms kept touching.

“Right, let’s sit down. You’re going to crack your head open at this rate,” Louis said, when Harry tripped for the fifth time because he couldn’t stop staring at Louis- he loved the animation on his face when he talked, and Harry’s feet weren’t very cooperative even with his full attention.

“You’re tripping on your own toes. There’s not a loose stone here.” Louis shook his head as he guided Harry to a stone seat beneath a tree.

Harry flushed. Despite his embarrassment he was glad to sit down with Louis, who rested his arm along the back of the stone bench, so that when Harry leaned back Louis’ knuckles brushed against his upper arm.

“Whatever you’re paying Liam is not enough. He doesn’t just have to protect you from external threats, but from yourself too,” Louis teased.

Harry pouted. “Hey, don’t kick me when I’m down.” He raised his bandaged arm. “I’m injured!”

Louis’ answering smile seemed a little off.

“Louis?” Harry knocked their knees together.

“It’s just- I’m sorry. I left you behind... If it hadn’t been for Liam that dragon might have killed you.”

“Lou, no, no. I tripped and fell down the river bank.” He chuckled. “And it’s Liam’s job to protect me, remember?”

Louis bit his lip, smiling at Harry, knees still pressed up together. “Where did you even come from, Harold?”

“I’m from a tiny village by the name of Holmes Chapel,” Harry answered with mock seriousness.

Louis rolled his eyes, and Harry giggled.

“My mum’s name is Anne and...” he faltered. “My father died when I was little, so I don’t remember him.”

That much was true. The fact that his father had been assassinated to steal his crown wasn’t something he cared to mention at the moment. It still didn’t seem quite real to him anyway.

Louis’ knuckles brushed against his arm again; this time Harry was certain it was deliberate.

“I have an older sister, Gemma.”

Thinking about Gemma and his mum brought back a host of questions and worries for Harry. Had they boarded the ship? Were they safe at sea? Harry was supposed to be on his way to Lord Corden’s castle... but Niall had said he needed at least a few days to heal. He wasn’t fit for traveling, Harry decided.

Louis' arm moved to wrap around Harry’s shoulder. “You must miss them.”

Harry tucked himself in a little more into Louis’ side. “I see them often. Gemma would love it here. My mum says that when Gemma was little she used to pretend she was a faerie, and every birthday she’d wish to grow wings.”

Louis waved a hand in the air dismissively. “Oh, the wings are a nuisance. Not really made for flight, you know.” Louis sighed.

Harry laughed. “So you’re like chickens?”

Louis gaped at him, then threw his head back laughing. “The disrespect, Harold. This is the king of faeries you’re addressing! Impertinent.”

Harry grinned. “Sorry.”

“You’re not.” Louis giggled. “Are you like this in court? I’m surprised you still have a head on your shoulders.”

“I live a charmed life,” Harry replied. And there it was again. A chance to come clean and tell Louis that he’d never been anywhere _near_ a court. Something held him back, though. It felt as though if he said it out loud it would all become much too real... and he needed this moment, away from the looming threat of Simon, and the paralyzing prospect of kingship.

“You’re a charmer, that’s for sure,” Louis said, huffing.

Harry’s heart hammered in his chest as he gathered his courage to blurt out, “I’ve never met a king like you, though.”

His heart was still racing as he glanced at Louis’ parted lips before they curved into a smile and he ducked his head. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” Louis asked, voice soft and eyes a little wide as he looked up at Harry.

Harry choked on his own saliva, coughed. “You’re, um...” He couldn’t think, not with Louis so close. He was distracted by how very blue his eyes were and the faint flutter of his wings at the edge of his vision. “... magical,” he breathed at last.

Louis touched his chin to his chest so that all Harry could see was the sweep of his eyelashes, before he raised his head. He pinched Harry’s arm. “Well spotted.”

Harry frowned, mortified at the thought that he’d offended Louis somehow. “I don’t mean-”

He never got the chance to explain that he meant _everything_ about Louis was magic and not because he was a faerie, because Zayn and Liam appeared around the bend of the path at that moment. Louis jumped off the bench and glided over to Zayn. It was the first time Harry had seen him use his wings and it was wondrous.

Liam took the seat next to Harry.

“Did something happen? You look bummed out,” Liam said.

Harry watched Louis tucked up against Zayn’s side. Zayn had his head tilted and was whispering in Louis’ ear.

“We were just talking,” Harry replied absently, as Louis shook his head slightly and rolled his eyes before waving at Liam and Harry.

“It’s almost dinner time, c’mon,” he called.

Zayn and Louis walked up ahead, their arms around each other, while Liam and Harry followed.

Niall joined them for dinner, and it would have been a pleasant affair, if Louis hadn’t ignored Harry throughout, and then excused himself early, leaving with a simple ‘night, lads!’ to the three of them. Not a single look in Harry’s direction.

Harry didn’t wait too long before using his bruised side as an excuse to go to bed, too. Feeling somewhat despondent, he got into bed and lay awake for a while, anxious at the thought that he’d upset Louis and now he wouldn’t want to spend any more time with Harry. The thought crossed his mind that it didn’t matter because he shouldn’t be at the faerie kingdom for long. It was a fleeting thought, however.

*

The next morning, Harry had just finished dressing when there was a knock on the door.

“‘Morning.” Louis gave a little wave even as he tugged on the hem of his shirt in an obvious nervous gesture. “Want to have breakfast?”

Harry cricked his neck with his eager nodding, he was so relieved.

The awkwardness faded quickly after breakfast. They spent the day together: Harry told Louis about baking with Anne and Louis told him about how he used to collect precious stones with his mother. It made Harry think of his magic stone and how the color reminded him of Louis’ eyes.

That night they had dinner with the boys, but Louis sat next to him and joked around, and walked Harry over to his room himself.

“Breakfast tomorrow?” Harry asked with trepidation, standing in front of his door.

Louis hesitated, then nodded. “Sure, bright and early.”

Harry fell asleep a lot faster that night.

*

Louis came to his room ‘bright and early’ as he’d promised, and they had a pleasant breakfast together again. But Harry was disappointed to learn that they were meeting up with Zayn after instead of spending the day on their own. He had enjoyed the day before so much with just the two of them, and he was a little wary of Zayn, who hadn’t quite warmed up to him.  
  
Zayn was waiting for them, tapping his foot, before a pair of towering, intricately carved doors. Harry expected him to be irritated, but when he saw them coming, he smiled.

He bounced up to Harry and squeezed his shoulder.

“Excited? We’ve got a lot of them. Just got a new one from the far East which I’m trying to translate. And you’ve got to see the illuminations on...”

Zayn prattled on while Harry turned to Louis, bewildered.

Louis waved at the doors for Harry to open them: it was a library. Harry stared in awe. It was a proper library with at least a couple hundred books- he’d had never seen so many together in his life.

The three of them spent all morning among the books. Zayn flitting from one to another, reading bits and pieces out loud, and pointing out illustrations. Harry was especially enthralled with the manuscripts of poetry. Nick had usually brought prose, folktales when Harry was a child and then historical chronicles, but too little poetry.

Louis hovered at Harry’s elbow for about an hour, then wandered off to curl up on the divan. When Harry noticed Louis had fallen asleep, he couldn’t help but stare at him, brimming with fondness. He felt Zayn’s eyes on him and flushed when Zayn raised his eyebrows.

“Alright, that’s enough. I’m starving,” Louis said when he woke up.

Harry put down the little book of poetry he’d been reading with regret, fingers lingering on the spine as he went to place it on the shelf.

Zayn eyed him critically.  Then pulled it back out and gave it to Harry. “Not a smudge, not a crease. Or I’ll kill you.” He smiled and kissed Harry’s cheek and would have kept his arm around Harry as they walked down the hallway if Louis hadn’t tugged him off and told him to go find Liam and Niall so they could have lunch.

 

Harry didn’t get a chance to thank Louis until they were saying goodnight in front of Harry’s room.

Louis shrugged. “Wanted to give you options, in case you get bored of me.”

Harry put on a thoughtful face, struggling not to smile. “That doesn’t seem like a realistic scenario,” he drawled.

Louis laughed, hunching his shoulders and covering his mouth with the back of his hand.

His mind flashed to their interrupted almost-kiss at the inn. Harry really, really wanted to kiss him.

Louis smiled at him and Harry moved in closer, leaning against the door frame. He took in the constellation of freckles on Louis’ cheek and the specks of green in his eyes. Louis’ fingers brushed against Harry’s chest... and Harry dropped the book he’d been holding, the corner stabbing the arch of his foot.

“Careful! Zayn will actually murder you,” Louis said. He ducked under Harry’s arm and stepped out into the middle of the corridor. He was almost out of sight down the corridor before Harry could open his mouth.

Harry knocked his forehead against the door frame.

*

The pain in his side was soon gone, and all that remained of his encounter with the marsh dragon was some scabbing in his arm where its teeth had scraped him, so that he no longer had any excuse not to move on and continue on his journey.

Yet he kept putting off his departure, and there were times when it actually slipped his mind that he was supposed to be elsewhere, on a mission. Harry felt he could live the rest of his life in absolute happiness as it was at that moment- except for the guilt that kept growing inside him, both at evading his duty and at keeping the secret from Louis. As well as the fact that he wanted to kiss Louis so much his whole body and heart ached with yearning.

“Lou?”

He’d been reading Louis a selection of verses out of the book he’d borrowed from Zayn while the two of them lounged in the weak winter sunlight. It was warmer in the faerie kingdom and the weather milder than it had been outside the forest but there was no escaping winter.

“Hm?” Louis raised his head up from where he’d been resting it on his folded arms. Harry had noticed that Louis seemed more tired than was reasonable for someone who had spent the last week sitting around with a convalescent.

“You knew you were going to be king since you were a little kid, right?”

Louis frowned at him. “Yeah?”

“And weren’t you... um. How did you... feel about that?” Harry’s chest felt a little tight.

Louis sat up. “Where’s this coming from?”

Harry bit his lip and didn’t answer. With his head down he couldn’t see Louis’ face, and the silence stretched out for so long Harry was afraid he’d shouldn’t have brought up the subject.

“When Simon took over... it meant a lot of changes for the faerie kingdom. Not at first- it was a gradual thing, him revealing he was dealing with goblins and letting the trolls run rampant... He didn’t seem to care about the faeries, so we just... went into hiding. It meant no more open trade, though, no more frequent visitors, no traveling.”

Harry looked up. Louis was looking at his lap, rubbing his hands nervously. “It was hard for me mum, so I tried to help as much as I could with Lottie and then Fizzy, and she would talk to me, about what was going on and what she was doing.”

Harry listened, almost afraid to breathe.

“It wasn’t like it used to be, but it was... fine, after a while. I was terrified of messing everything up once I became king. I actually convinced me mum to delay my investiture for a couple of years.” He gave a feeble chuckle. “I was crowned, in the end. Started off all right- then Simon remembered that faeries exist.”

“Has he been causing trouble?” Harry asked. He’d thought Ben and his men seeking a reward meant Simon was casting a wide net on the off-chance of a catch, nothing more.

Louis seemed to hesitate. “Not as such. But you saw at the inn. It’s not safe for faeries out there.  I don’t want anyone to feel like we’re prisoners in our own land.”

Harry reached out to take Louis’ hand. “You’re doing a good job. Your people aren’t suffering shortages or privations. And everyone seems happy, Lou. They’re not living in fear. And they’re safe.”

Louis’ smile was tremulous. “My mum still does a lot of the work. And we’ve got good faeries in the council.”

“And Simon won’t be king forever,” Harry added.

Louis responded with a small, strained chuckle. “That’s the spirit.”

Harry wasn’t sure why but he lay awake in bed for a long time that night before he managed to fall asleep.

*

“Leave him alone already, _Loueh_.” Zayn tugged Liam to his side and out of Louis’ reach.

Louis huffed and Harry noticed the agitated quiver of his wings. Louis had been irritable all evening, even quite short with Harry.

That morning it had been Niall who’d come to get Harry for breakfast, and they’d spent the day practicing on the lute and snacking- indoors, as it had been raining heavily since the night before.

Harry had been afraid he wouldn’t see Louis at all that day, but he’d shown up after dinner and sat down to play cards with them. Except he kept fidgeting, and teasing Liam, sprinkling him with the weak beer they’d been drinking and pelting him with crumbs; he’d pulled on Liam’s sleeve so hard the seams had split.

“It’s just a bit of fun,” Louis replied. “And now you’re ganging up on me.”

Louis’ voice had gone high and there was a quaver in it that made Harry think he was going to start crying. By the look Niall and Zayn exchanged, he didn’t think he was mistaken.

“Lou, c’mere,” Harry said softly. He put his hand on the back of Louis’ neck, sure for once, and gave it a squeeze. Louis edged closer to him, pouting.

“Liam knows I’m teasing,” Louis argued. He gave a little sigh when Harry buried his fingers in his hair at the back of his head, which was a little damp with sweat even though the temperature of the room was quite cool.

“I do, Louis,” Liam assured him. “Don’t worry about it. Had a rough day?”

Louis peered at Liam, swaying slightly with the movement of Harry’s hand massaging his scalp. “I’ll say. I had to sit through three council meetings.”

Niall groaned in sympathy.

Louis calmed down a bit after that and turned down another game in favor of resting his head against Harry’s shoulder. Harry felt the weight of his body against his side increase while Louis kept grumbling as he slipped in and out of a doze.

“Why don’t you lie down?” Harry whispered, patting his lap.

Louis squinted at him doubtfully but rested his head on Harry’s lap after minimal coaxing. He was asleep almost immediately. By the time they finished their game Harry’s leg had gone numb.

“You just gonna sit there all night?” Zayn asked when they were all ready to call it a night.

“He is!” Niall laughed, biting his fist to stop himself from making noise. “You two are adorable.”

He patted Harry’s head before he left, smiling.

“I could carry him to his room?” Liam suggested. “D’you think he’d wake up?” he asked, turning to Zayn.

Zayn shrugged. “If Harry doesn’t mind it’s probably best to just let him sleep, yeah?”

Once Liam and Zayn left, Harry watched Louis sleep for longer than he was prepared to admit. He counted every one of his eyelashes and the freckles on his cheek while he petted his soft hair, humming low in his throat all the while.

Louis woke almost an hour later, snuffling before opening his eyes.

“Hey,” Harry whispered.

Louis smiled, blinking up at him blearily. “‘s nice waking up to your face.”

“Yeah?”

“Beats Stan tugging off the covers to get me up in the morning, that’s for sure.” Louis sat up, his hair standing up where Harry had been petting it.

Harry laughed. “No contest then.”

Louis ran a hand through his hair, the movement sluggish. Even his wings were drooping.

“You should get to bed,” Harry said, standing up. He offered Louis his hand and pulled him to his feet. Harry steadied him, hands on his shoulders, and couldn’t resist bending down to give him a quick hug.

“Was that all right?” Harry asked when he pulled back, his face hot.

Louis shrugged. “I favor the long embrace, but it wasn’t too bad, I guess.”

Harry honked with laughter. “Do I get another try?”

Louis shook his head, yawning. “If I go in for the long embrace right now, I’m likely to fall asleep on you.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Harry said earnestly. “An all-night long embrace.”

Louis gaped at Harry before giving a little chuckle. “All night? You reckon?”

Harry nodded solemnly before dissolving into giggles. Louis joined him and the smile stayed on his face when they stopped laughing. Harry took Louis’ hand and led him out the door and down the hall until they reached his room. To his delight, Louis gave him a quick hug before closing the door and Harry went to bed feeling elated.

*

“I’m a bit insulted, mate,” Liam teased, saluting Harry with his goblet.

“Wha'?” Harry replied, tongue out to spoon some porridge into his mouth.

“You couldn’t have looked more disappointed when you opened the door and saw it was me and not Louis,” Liam explained.

“‘s not true,” Harry mumbled, his mouth full. “Just surprised.”

Liam raised his eyebrows. “Right.”

Harry gave him a dirty look and went back to his breakfast. He _had_ been a little disappointed, though. And surprised. Liam might raise his eyebrows, but Harry suspected he’d been spending all of his time with Zayn, so he couldn’t really talk.

“Um.” Liam cleared his throat.

Harry looked up from his plate, frowning. “What?”

Liam took a deep breath. “Harry. I actually wanted to see you alone... because I thought we should... talk?”

Harry lowered his spoon.

“Like, look, I know it’s- it’s really nice here,” Liam hedged, his fingers tracing the veining of the wood from the table. He looked at Harry, his face set. “And I know you- I know you really like Louis, but we’ve been here eleven days and you’re completely healed and I think we should...”

Harry’s grip on the spoon went white-knuckled.

“I think we should go,” Liam finished.

Harry didn’t know what to say. Liam was right. Harry knew he’d been here too long. His mother and sister’s safety could be compromised. And he had a responsibility toward the people. But the thought of leaving Louis made his chest ache.

“Harry?” Liam knocked Harry’s foot with his own under the table.

“We can’t leave while this rain lasts,” Harry said at last.

Liam frowned looking out the window. The rain from the day before had continued, falling steadily, with almost no interruption.

“I suppose you’re right,” Liam admitted. “But once it clears up...”

After breakfast, Liam convinced Harry to spar with him, so that by lunchtime Harry was feeling somewhat sore, but energized. He’d been afraid he’d regret the lack of training in the last week and half but his form wasn’t too bad, after all.

He occupied the afternoon with Louis’ siblings: playing with the little ones by the fire while the rain went on and on, and then letting Lottie braid his hair while Fizzy read to them.

Louis didn’t join them for dinner and Harry kept thinking about how he had to leave soon and he wanted to do something special for Louis before he did, only half-listening to Niall as he recounted a time he’d dislocated his knee trying to fly too high.

Before he went to bed, Harry asked Niall about his idea. It made Niall laugh but he agreed to help him out.

*

Louis shot him a skeptical look. “A surprise?”

Harry nodded. “Yes.”

“How does _that_ work?”

“I plan something without you knowing, and you don’t expect it, and then you’re amazed,” Harry answered, deadpan.

Louis narrowed his eyes at him. “It’s that good of a surprise, is it?”

Harry blushed.

“C’mon,” he said with false confidence, taking Louis’ hand and leading him down the hall. As they neared their destination, Harry felt less and less sure of his plan.

Maybe Niall’s uncontrollable laughter should have clued him into how ridiculous it was. Louis was going to think it was a waste of his time. Especially after he’d been complaining about spending the morning attending endless meetings. Harry had actually worried he’d have to postpone his surprise as the afternoon wore on and Louis still hadn’t made an appearance.

It was later than Harry had planned, but everything Harry had told Niall he needed was still laid out on the table when they reached the kitchens. Flour. Honey. Eggs. Butter. Cups and bowls and spoons.

Harry turned to face Louis, heart racing, still holding Louis' hand, and mortified because he could feel that his own hand was sweating.

“I’ve told you about how I used to bake at home, so I thought we could bake something... together?” Harry stumbled over the words, tongue thick in his mouth.

Louis stared at him. “You’re making me do work? On my day off?” he said, sounding horrified.

Harry giggled. “Baking doesn’t have to be work. It’ll be fun!”

He could tell that Louis was fighting back a grin and it made his own smile widen. “We’re making something simple, don’t worry.”

Louis, it was apparent, had never stepped foot inside a kitchen before, but he was a quick learner, and Harry wasn’t complaining when he got to hold his wrist to teach him how to whisk, or when he got to put his arms around him and his hands over Louis’ in order to show him how to knead the dough.

“These things better be good,” Louis said, once the first batch of pastries was in the oven. He raised his sticky, doughy fingers in front of Harry’s face. “And why is there flour everywhere?”

Harry laughed, holding Louis’ hand and wiping his fingers carefully with a damp cloth. “There’s flour everywhere ‘cause you were shaking the bowl around.”

Louis made a noncommittal noise and tucked a strand of hair that had escaped Harry’s bun behind his ear. He left his hand resting on Harry’s shoulder, fingers curled at the juncture of his neck. “You should have explained better.”

Harry noticed Louis’ gaze flick to his mouth before meeting his eyes again.

Harry raised his hand, barely brushing the back of his knuckles against Louis’ jaw. “Lou, can I-?”

Louis surged on his tiptoes and kissed him, gripping the back of his neck. The first touch of his lips startled a moan out of Harry. He clutched at Louis’ waist, kitchen towel still in his grip, and cupped his jaw with his other hand, bending down so Louis could drop back on his heels while they kissed, slow and easy.

When they broke apart, Harry felt as light as air and breathless at the same time. He smiled wide at Louis, who bit his bottom lip, trying to stifle a grin. His wings hummed as they quivered.

“See? It was a good surprise,” Harry joked.

Louis held Harry’s face in his hands, thumbs dipping into his dimples. He seemed on the verge of speaking for an instant but then just shook his head and kissed Harry again, a succession of quick pecks before stepping back. “You do the washing up.”

Harry attempted some grumbling, and Louis ended up helping him clean up while waiting for the pastries to be ready.

After, they raided the pantry to put together some dinner and ate camped out in Harry’s room.

“They turned out really good and I’m taking at least half the credit,” Louis pronounced once he’d sampled the honey cakes.

He was sitting with his back against the headboard of the bed while Harry sprawled at his feet on his stomach. Harry kissed his bare ankle as he sat up then rested his cheek against Louis’ raised knee. It was nearing the hour they usually said their good-nights and Harry desperately wanted him to stay.

Louis petted his hair. “Tired?”

Harry made a small noise of dissent. “Just thinking.”

He contemplated Louis in the soft light: he was so beautiful. And he made Harry _so_ happy.

“I still haven’t heard you sing,” he said out loud.

Louis made a face, scrunching his nose up. “You’re not missing much, Harry, honest.”

“Won’t you sing for me? We could sing together?” Harry straightened, scooted closer, his hand on Louis’ knee.

“Not tonight, yeah? I’m knackered,” Louis said. “Actually, I should-”

“Don’t go, Lou, please,” Harry blurted out, panicking when he realized he’d made Louis want to leave when it was the opposite of what he’d intended. Harry leaned forward, closing the distance between them, and kissed him, tasting the honey and the wine in his mouth. Louis hummed, threading his hand through Harry’s hair.

Harry squeezed Louis’ knee and ran his hand up the inside of his thigh, finger tips throbbing with his pulse.

“Ah, I really am tired, Harry. It’s not just an excuse not to sing,” Louis said, chuckling, when they separated, thumb smoothing over Harry’s neck.

Harry flushed, and removed his hand from Louis’ thigh. “Right. But, um, will you... stay the night? Please?”

Louis hesitated, without stopping the circular movement of his thumb on Harry’s neck.

“I guarantee the bed is very comfortable.” Harry managed a lopsided smile.

Louis smiled at him and brought him in for another kiss. “Yeah, alright.”

Harry wasn’t tired, but he got into bed with Louis all the same, holding Louis’ hand to his chest and lacing their fingers together.

Louis snuffled against the back of his neck, then brushed his lips against the top of Harry’s spine. He gave Harry a little squeeze around the waist with his elbow.

“‘night, Hazza,” he mumbled.

“Good night, Lou,” Harry whispered.

*

Harry slept very well. He woke up with his face smushed against Louis’ chest, nestled in the crook of his arm, feeling thoroughly content.  
They were both a little shy as they got out of bed and dressed in the weak sunlight- the rain had finally stopped the evening before- but the awkwardness soon passed.  
  
Louis accompanied Harry to the training hall, where the faeries of the guard practiced with their weapon of choice or their defensive and offensive magic. It was rather late for breakfast, so Harry ate an apple and a sausage roll a kitchen hand was kind enough to find for him on the move while Louis cradled a mug of tea to his chest with both hands.

As they neared the hall they heard a burst of laughter that was unmistakably Niall’s. Through the open door, Harry saw that Liam was doing pull-ups, shirtless and sweaty, while Niall hovered in the air in front of him, wings beating lazily to keep himself in the air, laughing as Liam pulled a different face every time he raised himself up.

Zayn didn’t notice as Harry and Louis walked into the room; he was sitting on the floor, legs crossed at the ankle, a book face down on his lap, watching Liam.

“He’s not fooling anyone with that book,” Louis whispered to Harry. Then he shrugged. “He’s got a good view from there, though,” he went on, thoughtfully.

“You’re going to watch me train?” Harry asked, grinning even as he felt his face heat up.

“Well, I didn’t come out here to work out, that’s for sure.” He nudged Harry’s hip with his own before ambling over to Zayn, turning to shoot Harry a wink.

Harry went over to Liam and Niall, still grinning. “‘morning.”

Niall waggled his eyebrows at him. “More like afternoon.” He laughed and pulled Harry into a hug. “I can’t believe the baking thing worked.”

Harry shook his head, face hot. “‘s not-”

“Why don’t you run a couple of laps to warm up, H?” Liam interrupted, dropping to the ground and stretching his arms.

Harry caught Niall looking confused at the obvious tension in Liam’s voice and the slight furrow on his brow.  “Gonna go talk to Louis,” Niall said slowly and whizzed off.

“C’mon, I’ll run with you,” Liam said shortly.

They ran around the room in silence, so that the sound of their feet hitting the floor seemed unnaturally loud. In the background, Harry could hear Zayn, Niall and Louis chatting. Harry tried to get Liam to talk to him but Liam just shook his head and mouthed, ‘later’.

When they were boxing, Harry could tell that Liam wasn’t pulling his punches as much as he normally would. At one point he caught Harry in the stomach, the blow making him double over.

“Oi!” Harry heard Louis shout from where he was sitting.

“Sorry. Shit, I’m sorry, Harry.” Liam rushed over and gripped his shoulder. “Harry, did I hurt you? Shit. I’m so sorry.”

Harry shook his head as he straightened up. “I’m fine. Just tell me _why_?” he gasped.

Liam frowned, head down.

“Liam, just tell me.”

Liam took a deep breath and mumbled something, so low Harry couldn’t understand him.

“What?”

“Did you sleep with him?” Liam asked, louder.

Harry gaped at him.

“Did you sleep with Louis?” Liam repeated.

Harry glanced at where Louis was sitting. Had he heard that? Louis had his head tilted toward Zayn, who was pointing at something in the book on his lap.

Harry brushed some hair that had escaped from his bun off his forehead. “Not like that,” he answered.

Liam didn’t look like he quite believed Harry.

Harry scowled at him. “What’s it to you anyway?”

“I’m just worried about you,” Liam sighed.

Harry pulled at his bottom lip. “Why? I’ve never been better.”

“That’s the problem. I’ve never seen you like this before- it’s like he’s put a spell on you.”

Liam cut him off before Harry could argue. “I know he hasn’t, Harry. But, this is like, a dream come true for you- for both of us, I’m not going to lie- being here, meeting faeries... and you might have got a bit carried away.”

Harry squared his jaw. “It’s not like that at all, Liam,” he said, voice low.

Liam rubbed his hands over his face. “Well, you seem to have forgotten what you set out to do.”

“I haven’t.”

“Then you’re just making this harder for yourself, because you know we have to leave. Soon,” Liam finished, looking grim.

Harry breathed in, chest burning from exertion. It wasn't just the sweat making his eyes sting.

“I’m sorry, Harry.” Liam opened his arms and Harry trudged up to him and let himself rest against Liam’s chest for a long moment.

 

Louis seemed a little off when they went to have lunch, and Harry couldn’t shake the idea that he’d overheard his conversation with Liam somehow. Niall kept laughing without reason, twisting the corner of the tablecloth, but the biggest giveaway was Zayn, who was acting as though Liam weren’t even in the same room, let alone seated at the same table.

The tension in the room was at breaking point by the time they were done eating.

“Shit, Louis, I almost forgot,” Niall said suddenly.

Louis lifted his chin questioningly.

“Stan told me you can’t keep putting off that meeting with Caiflin.” Niall snickered. “Unless you want him to tell your mum about that _thing_ you did when you were seven.”

Louis rolled his eyes and made a face. Harry, however, was struck by a thought. Hadn’t Louis told him that he was meeting with Caiflin yesterday? When Louis looked at him he must have read the confusion on his face because he went very still, then hastened to hide behind his goblet.

Niall bolted soon after, claiming he had to meet up with some friends. Harry couldn’t blame him. Zayn just sat and glared at Liam, who kept clearing his throat and squirming in his seat, while Louis drummed his fingers on the table, head down.

“Um, Louis,” Harry mumbled, reaching out to touch Louis’ wrist.

Louis startled and looked up at Harry with a slight frown on his face. Harry pointed at the door with a tilt of his head, waiting with bated breath as Louis studied him for a long moment, face blank, before turning to whisper in Zayn’s ear. Zayn gave a one-sided shrug and mumbled something unintelligible in response, but Harry supposed it meant they could go, because Louis got up and signalled for Harry to follow him.

They went for a stroll in the courtyard, silent except for the tinkle of the fountain and the whistle of the wind. Harry wished he could hold Louis’ hand; he was afraid of what Louis might ask. If he asked about Harry leaving... about _why_ he had to go.

“You weren’t meeting with Caiflin then,” Harry said in a shameful attempt to stall.

Louis didn’t answer.

“So where were you?” Harry went on.

“Doing other stuff,” Louis replied shortly, without looking at him.

“But why did you lie to me? Don’t you trust me?”

Louis made an exasperated noise. “It’s not- it’s not important. Just, trust _me_.”

Harry stopped walking, which made Louis come to a stop as well. “I’ve never asked you to give me explanations,” Harry said, thinking about Louis' tiredness and the times he disappeared. “But I don’t understand why you won’t.”

Louis huffed, rubbing his eyebrow. “You don’t have to understand, Harry. This has nothing to do with you.”

Harry recoiled, feeling as though he’d been struck. “That’s not fair, Louis. I _want_ to understand-”

Louis looked like he was biting the inside of his cheek. “Why? You’re leaving soon, aren’t you?”

Harry’s chest felt tight all of a sudden. “I-”

“ _Harold, the wandering minstrel._ ” Louis threw his hands up. “Traipsing around to see the wonders of the world. And I’m just something you can cross off your list.”

Harry shook his head frantically as his eyes started to sting for the second time that day. “You’re more than that. Louis-”

Louis blinked up at the sky. Harry could hear the quaver in his voice. “Still not enough to make you stay.”

Harry couldn’t help the sob that rose in his throat. “I’ve got- there’s something I need to do.”

“What do you have to do?” Louis asked, voice tiny.

When Louis turned to look at him, Harry saw that his eyes were wet. A terrible weight seemed to be crushing the air out of his chest and Harry couldn’t speak.

Louis nodded, mouth trembling. “Now who’s keeping secrets?”

Harry stood, frozen in place.

Louis sighed after the silence stretched out between them. “I’m going to... go,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow. We can talk about getting you provisions so you can leave.”

*

Harry went back to his room and cried into his pillow until he felt sick and his throat was on fire. In the end he fell into an exhausted sleep in which he dreamt that he was chasing Louis in an impenetrable fog, calling out to him over and over again. He woke up struggling to breathe through his raw throat and stuffed nose. The room was dark: the red-tinged darkness of the night before a snow storm, which was odd since the weather had been so mild. He opened a window: the air smelled of rain and lightning. His skin broke out in goose pimples.

Harry splashed water on his face and, resolute, left the room to find Louis. He had to explain. Everything. He couldn’t stomach the thought of Louis thinking he didn’t matter to him for another second.

The corridors were empty and eerily silent. Louis’ bedroom was empty. The bed untouched.

Harry rushed back down the passage, breathing too fast. He tried to find Niall and Zayn and Liam with no luck.

He heard voices and followed them to the council room. Louis had shown it to him when he gave him a tour of the palace. The doors were wide open and the room full of nervous, flittering faeries. Jay was seated at the round table with several other important faeries, whispering earnestly, faces grave.

Harry saw Lottie to the side, sitting with her arms wrapped around herself, pale faced.

“Lottie, what’s happened?” Harry asked, kneeling in front of her. “Where’s Louis?”

Lottie took a deep shuddering breath. Harry noticed her nails were cutting into the flesh of her arms just above her elbow, so he pried her fingers from their tight grip and held her hands in his own. Her hands were clammy. “We’re under attack,” she said at last.

“Where’s Louis?” Harry repeated numbly.

He knew what she was going to answer. It still hit him like a marsh dragon plowing into him.

“He’s gone to fight.”


	4. Chapter 4

PART III

 

Louis was moping in his room when Stan came to fetch him. There was a prisoner waiting to be interrogated.

“A what?” Louis asked, bewildered.

“Have you been crying?” Stan peered at his face, frowning.

Louis waved away his concern, sniffling. “That’s not important right now. A _prisoner?_ Why?”

Stan handed him a handkerchief. “A murderous goblin,” he explained. “A sentry found him next to his companion, who had been strangled to death. Naturally, he claims he didn’t do it-”

“But why bring him here?”

“He said he had some valuable information.”

Louis scoffed, “Of course he would say that.”

Stan reached into his pocket. “He had this on him.” He handed Louis a folded up square of cloth.

Louis turned back the corners of the cloth: on his palm rested a small silver medallion. He turned it over in his hand, intrigued. It was a royal token, no doubt. From the House of Styles, if he wasn’t mistaken. Certainly not a piece a goblin would just stumble upon. Louis’ stomach clenched when he noticed it had the engraving of the story of Wis and Ry. His mind immediately going to Harry and the night they’d met at the inn.

He closed his hand around the medallion, the chain slipping between his fingers.

“I’ll talk to him.”

*

“What’s this? You had it on you.” Louis held out the token hanging from its chain in front of him.

The goblin followed the oscillation of the medallion in the air with covetous eyes. Shackled, on his knees in the middle of the cell, he shrugged. “A trinket I acquired.”

Louis raised an eyebrow. “Where?”

“A trade with a fellow traveler, not far from here.” The goblin bared his needle teeth in a grin. Louis took that to mean he’d stolen it.

“When?”

The goblin tilted his head, peering up at Louis. “You’re using up all your questions on a very insignificant thing.”

“We’ll be asking as many questions as we like. And you _will_ answer.” Alberto stepped forward out of the corner, cracking his knuckles. “Now answer his royal highness.”

The goblin spat to the side. “About a week ago, maybe more? I don’t recall.”

Alberto took another threatening step forward, but Louis made a sign for him to step back. He had the oddest feeling about this token, but it was true there were other questions to be asked.

“So, what is the information you think is worth your life?”

The goblin glanced at Alberto with distrust. “Your royal word I will not be harmed?”

“Yes, yes,” Louis said impatiently.

The goblin’s wide mouth stretched into a unctuous smile. “Do you know The Generous Seer?”

Louis nodded. He’d heard of her: some good, some bad. Ellen was known mostly for having a wicked sense of humor. From what he understood, she was tricky to deal with, and not above selling her visions to the highest bidder, or whoever amused her most.

“She had the most lucrative vision not too long ago.”

“About what?”

“An usurper to the throne. A young man come to tear Simon down from his pedestal. If you believe such things...”

“Whoever paid for it bought it.”

The goblin made an odd clattering sound in his throat, which Louis thought might be laughter. “Oh, yes. He also believes it’s a secret known only to him... but tongues wag. The news is spreading: a contender to the throne... perhaps even the legitimate heir?”

“Why is this information supposed to be worth so very much to me?” Louis asked. “Faeries have kept themselves distant from all these human squabbles.”

That wasn’t quite true and less so in recent times. Louis was well aware that his interference with Simon’s intended misuse of the woodland had marked him as an enemy to Simon, but Louis couldn’t let him violate their precious home. He only hoped Simon would take it as a personal affront, from king to king, and not take it out on his people.

“Well, you see, The Generous Seer had another bit of knowledge to impart: the whereabouts of this mysterious would-be-king.”

Louis waited with bated breath.

“She said he’s _here_.” The goblin stared at him, keen on his reaction. “In the faerie kingdom.”

Louis cleared his throat, turning his back on the goblin. He tugged on the hem of his shirt in a nervous gesture, head whirling. They had two guests. Two human guests and a connection to a royal token and secrets and reasons to leave...

“Very well. You are to be taken to the edge of the forest and set free. If you return, your life is forfeit,” Louis intoned.

“There’s something else.”

Louis turned to face the goblin, his heart racing. The creature’s face was gloating.

“What?”

“It has a price.” The goblin’s long tongue darted out to lick his thin lips.

“Your life.”

“No, no, that’s a done deal,” the goblin barked. “We’re in another transaction.”

“How do I know it’s worth it?”

“You don’t.” The goblin shot him a smug look. “Take your chances.” 

“Name your price,” Louis snapped.

“Fifty gold pieces. It’s not up for haggling.”

A sense of foreboding flooded Louis. His grip on the medallion tightened until the edges cut into the flesh of his palm and fingers. Alberto caught his eye and nodded in encouragement.

Louis addressed the goblin, “Done.”

The goblin inclined its head, pleased. “As you might suppose, Simon has a vested interest in... meeting this young man. He’s quite anxious to talk to him.”

Louis went cold, blood pounding in his temples.

“So much so he’s sent forth a _guard of honor_ to escort him to his presence.”

“How many?” Alberto cut in brusquely.

“At least a hundred men. Coming in from the north and east.”

“How do you know this?” Louis breathed.

The goblin bared his teeth in another malevolent grin. “Sometimes secrets can be as valuable as gold, your majesty.”

*

Louis flexed his wings against his back, thinking it wouldn’t do to be pinned to a tree by an arrow. He pulled on his cloak, fumbling with the clasp.  
It was the first time he would be leading the guard into combat and although it was a nominal position, Louis was nervous, his hands sweating and his heart pounding as he readied himself to go out into the forest.

Louis was a poor fighter- had never much fancied training- and he wasn’t built for a large sword or an axe. His eyesight wasn’t all that good, so archery was out of the question, as well.

All he had was his speed and his magic.

Louis _was_ a fast runner, and as a pathfinder he could open a path to wherever he wished to go, through woodland or marshland he found a route, and he could cover the distance in less time than normal. As king of the woodland realm, his personal magic expanded to include a certain control over the forest. The magic that kingship conferred varied according to the individual. As a healer, his mother’s had manifested in a perpetual spring for the forest. For Louis, it meant he could close paths as well as opening them: raising roots and rocks, shifting branches, stirring up fogs and bringing down rain...

Ever since Simon had turned a suspicious eye on Lord Corden as a possible threat, he had been attempting to make use of the forest as a source of timber and a quicker route for his army. Louis had done his best to deter him, but in the last month the assault had escalated, so that he had spent night in and night out leading small groups of Simon’s men- scouting parties, he realized now- out of the forest.

It was tiring work and the constant use of his magic drained his energy. He’d managed, anyhow. But that had been a matter of lurking in the shadows, and small parties. Against a numerous group, aware, and with a greater purpose... Louis was afraid he’d be useless in the fight.

He took a deep breath as he succeeded in fastening his cloak.

“Can you tell Niall he can’t go?” Zayn burst through the door, followed by Niall, clinging to his back, and, trailing behind them, Liam.

Louis put his hands on his hips. “None of you are going.”

Zayn raised an eyebrow. “There’s no way you’re going without me.” He shook his head before Louis could say anything. “I talked to Alberto, he said my magic could be useful.”

Louis made a face. “I am the king-”

“And as such you have to think what’s best for everybody. And that’s me coming along,” Zayn cut in smoothly.

“Fine.” Louis turned to Niall. “You’re not coming, though.”

Niall gave him an unimpressed look. “Two words: battle surgeon,” he said. “And I can throw my daggers, so it’s not like I’m defenceless.” He reached a small dagger he had hidden in his boot and flipped it before tucking it back in place. “Got a bunch of them.”

Louis scowled at Liam. “What’s your angle?”

Liam shrugged. “I can actually fight. With a sword.”

“Alright, no need to get cocky, Liam,” Louis replied, mouth twitching.

Zayn sat on the bed and pulled at Louis until he sat down next to him. Louis buried his face against the side of his neck as Zayn pulled him to his side. Zayn’s traveling cloak smelled like the bottom of his trunk: he hadn’t had the chance to travel much as he had never even joined Louis and Niall on their trips to Ed’s inn to gather news.

“Shouldn’t we tell Harry?” Liam asked, scuffing his boot.

Louis looked up. “ _No._ He needs to be kept safe.”

Liam’s face was the confirmation he needed to be convinced that it was indeed Harry whom Ellen had referenced in her vision. It was Harry who was the heir to the throne and Simon’s rival. The thought of sweet, tenderhearted, innocent Harry up against the cruel and ruthless Simon made Louis nauseous.

“Harry should stay here,” Niall agreed, even though he didn’t know that Harry was the main target of the raid.  

Zayn brought Louis in closer and held him tight. Louis could feel Zayn’s heartbeat in his throat, regular and calming.

“So, what’s the plan?” Liam asked.

“We’re going to fight them, of course,” Louis answered, untangling himself from Zayn’s embrace. “They’re not expecting us and they’re underestimating us- less than two hundred men? It’s a bit offensive, to be honest.”

  
‘Less than two hundred men’ looked rather less risible and more frightening as they got closer. And the horde was even closer to the palace than Louis had feared.

More powerfully built and taller than any faerie, the troop marched through the forest, torches lighting up their faces in a sinister fashion. Most of them were carrying short, broad swords or heavy axes, but they also had a few archers, pointing their bows up at the canopy of trees as though they expected to find faeries perched like birds on branches.  
  
In order to organize their plan of attack, the faerie guard hunkered down out of sight behind a mass of boulders and brambles, a half mile down the path of the oncoming mob.

There was no danger of being heard with the rush of the river, swollen after the recent downpour. Not that there was much chance of it, as faeries were generally light-footed and preferred to fight unencumbered by heavy armor.

They didn’t chance a fire, but with the moon almost full, enough light filtered through the trees overhead to see without much trouble.

“What do you think?” Louis asked Alberto.

Louis trusted his opinion more than any other when it came to the defense of the kingdom. Alberto had started out as a foot soldier but risen to a high-ranking position at a young age. He had first visited the faerie kingdom as head of the private guard of an illustrious aristocrat before Louis was even born. When his master passed he had returned to offer Queen Johannah his services and he had become the first human member of the faerie royal household.

“These are mercenaries, not even military men. You can see it in the quality of their weapons, their clothes. They fight dirty.” Alberto shook his head. “Most of the guard have never done any real fighting before... We have to be smart about this or it’s going to get ugly.”

Louis lowered his forehead against his hands, palms together as though in supplication. “Right, right.”

Alberto crossed his arms over his broad chest, head bowed in thought. “We need to break them into smaller groups, easier targets. They’re undisciplined, and that’s good for us. It’ll be every man for himself then, and they’ll lose their greatest advantage, which is in their bulk.”

“So how do we scatter them?” Louis mused. Short of launching a volley of flaming pine cones into their midst Louis couldn’t think of anything. They could have archers shoot fire tipped arrows, but the danger of causing a fire was too high. Unless... unless it wasn’t _real_.

Louis turned to Zayn. “You’re going to be useful after all, Zayn.”

*

“We’re close enough, don’t you think?” Liam said, frowning and holding out his arm to stop Zayn from going further.

They had been trying to find a spot secluded enough for Zayn to be safe, but close enough that he could work his magic effectively. They had climbed up a winding, steep overgrown path to a ledge on the rock face.

Zayn’s mouth twitched. “I’ll be fine, Liam. Got you to protect me, don’t I?”

He couldn’t tell in the gloom, but Louis would have bet a fortune that Liam was blushing as he mumbled in assent.

“You sure this is a good place?” Louis asked skeptically. The ledge appeared too exposed to him, a scattering of shrubs and a short, bristly tree offering limited cover.

Zayn nodded. “‘s perfect.”

Louis grimaced. But there wasn’t time to argue; he could hear the tromping of the men coming closer. He turned to Liam. Before he could say anything, however, Liam had pulled him into a tight hug, almost lifting him off his feet. “I’ll take care of him. You be careful,” he whispered.

“Thanks,” Louis gasped.

Zayn grinned at Louis. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

Louis put a hand to his chest. “When do I ever?”

Zayn kissed the side of his head, crushing Louis’ hand in his own. “Love you.”

Louis swallowed thickly. “Love you too.”

He skidded on the gravel as he scrambled down the path. His first instinct was to spread his wings for balance, but he couldn’t with them flexed to his back and tucked under his cloak. He grunted as he managed to land on his feet after sliding the last few feet to level ground.

His heart pounded as he circled back to the guard. The ambush site was an open space enclosed on one side by a vertical rock wall and funneling into a defensible narrow passage.The main force was following the raiding party on the right side to stop them from escaping into the woodland, while a small detachment went ahead to cut off their advance.

It was a short distance before they reached the chosen battle ground and Louis could feel his wings vibrating while sweat trickled down the back of his neck.

“Relax, I’ve got your back.” Cara winked when she caught Louis’ eye. She wielded two long knives with such skill that Alberto had appointed her as Louis’ personal guard.

Louis nodded, lifting the corner of his mouth into a crooked smile. At least they’d left Niall behind with a couple other faeries to tend to any wounded, out of the way of the fighting. Safe.

The first rumble of alarm reached them at the precise moment the crawling, dark smoke did. Alberto signalled and the archers dispersed in an instant. Timing was essential in their plan, as they were counting on taking advantage of that initial moment of confusion, before the faeries got mixed in the crowd, and before the men started running off to escape the fire, to take their enemy out.

For what seemed like an eternity all Louis could hear over the pounding of blood in his head was the whistle of arrows and the crackle of fire and broken cries of pain.

The fighting seemed to break out of nowhere. One moment they were on the edge of the action, and the next they were in the middle of it, as the men started running into the trees from the spreading illusion of the fire. Disorganized and self-interested, the mob fragmented. The men ran off on their own, so that the faeries had an easier time blocking their escape than if the men had presented an united front.

Louis remained in the sidelines, helping where he could. Twisting roots and raising stones to trip the men up as they stumbled into the thick of the forest, while another faerie swooped to cut them down. He could see Cara moving around him on the edge of his vision, fleeting flashes of steel when anyone came too close to him.

When the number of men slowed down to a trickle, the faeries started moving toward the clearing. Louis signalled at Cara for the two of them to move forward as well. The clamor increased in volume with every step.

Beyond the tree line it was a battle ground. It seemed the men had realized the fire was false; it had been a matter of time, with fire that had no heat and did not burn. Zayn could paint a picture with his magic and add sound, but it remained intangible.

The men seemed enraged, red-faced and shouting. And in their midst, the odd pale face, sweating and bleeding. It turned Louis’ stomach.

Like thunder after a bolt of lightning, there was a bellow. “There!” A large, bearded man pointed straight at the ledge where Zayn was stationed.

An arrow flew loose from the edge of the trees.

Louis followed its trajectory. His breath caught in his chest as the arrow rushed through the air and embedded itself in Zayn’s shoulder. The fire in the clearing went out like a snuffed candle.

“Zayn! Zayn!” Louis screamed.

The crack of broken bone from the force of the root twisting and pulling around the archer’s leg was audible even in the midst of the fighting. The man yelled in pain before one of Niall’s daggers embedded itself in his throat.

Louis ran over to Niall, ignoring Cara calling for him to wait.  “What are you doing here?” Louis shouted at Niall. “You’re not supposed to be here, you idiot.”

Louis was shaking as he grabbed Niall’s arm. Niall was white as a sheet beneath splotches of pink on his cheeks. “I wanted to help,” he groaned.

“Get up there, then! You need to get to Zayn!”

Louis grunted as he was elbowed hard in the side by a man engaged in a furious sword fight with a faerie. He whirled around. “Cara! You need to get us up there.” He pointed at the ledge. He could see Zayn’s body but not Liam.

Cara didn’t answer, locked in a fight with a giant of a man wielding a heavy axe. Louis searched around him for some way to help her. The trees were too far and the clearing was dirt and gravel. Louis stomped his foot in frustration and the ground trembled. His heart flip-flopped in his chest: he’d never done _that_ before.

The earthquake made some of the men topple and fall, while the faeries, lighter on their feet, stood their ground. The man Cara was fighting never made it back to his feet.

“Louis! Louis!”

It took Louis a long moment to realize it was Niall shouting at him. Louis hadn’t noticed he was clinging to Niall’s arm. To him it felt like the earth was still shaking.

Louis opened his mouth, but Zayn’s name died in his throat as he stared in amazement at the swarm of dragons flying toward them.

The dragons flew over the battle ground, then whirled around and did it again. Everyone ducked instinctively.

“Let every man drop his weapons and surrender!” a familiar voice shouted.

Louis looked up from his crouch and was amazed to see Liam in full armor, with a regiment of shining armored soldiers behind him, appear at the mouth of the narrow passage.

“What the-” Niall gasped next to Louis.

The same man who had shouted the order to loose the arrow that hit Zayn got to his feet, standing proud. “It’s another one of their tricks. It’s nothing but their evil deception. Stand up, men!”

The men hesitated. Only a few stood up, slowly.

“You’ll be shown no mercy!” Liam warned, raising his sword.

A few more men got to their feet.

Louis bit his lip. He put his hand on the ground, palm spread.

“Don’t, Louis.” Niall shook his head frantically.

Louis winced as he let the magic go through him. The ground quaked just as a dragon, circling above them, roared.

The men who had stood up fell down, and their leader, trembling with fear, threw down his sword. The faeries rushed forward to subdue them.

Louis toppled face first as his arm gave out under him. Pain bloomed in his cheek and chin.

Niall rolled him onto his back, patting his neck. Louis’ heart felt like it was going to jump right out of his chest.

He tried to say ‘Zayn’ but his mouth didn’t seem to be working. His ears weren’t working either since Niall’s mouth was moving, but Louis couldn’t hear above the shrill ringing. His vision flickered. Niall’s worried face went out of focus, then faded.

When Louis closed his eyes he felt like he was falling.

*

Louis drifted into consciousness. His mind felt sluggish and disconnected from his body. He squinted and recognized he was lying in bed, in his room.

Harry was slouched over in a chair next to the bed, asleep.

Louis thought he must have made some sound or moved when Harry’s head shot up. “Louis,” he rasped. His eyes were red-rimmed. “How do you feel, what can I get you?”

Louis felt a tug on his hand and he noticed then that Harry had been holding his hand while he slept.

“Louis,” Harry repeated, squeezing his hand.

Louis tried to squeeze back. It seemed like a huge effort to get his body to do anything.

Harry pressed the back of Louis’ hand to his cheek.

Louis sank back into sleep.

*

The next time Louis woke up he was clearheaded. His chest ached and he was exhausted, muscles screaming with fatigue at the smallest movement, but the fog in his head had cleared.

“What the hell happened?” he asked out loud, startling Liam out of his doze, sprawled in the chair, and head lolling to the side.

“Hey.” Liam’s voice was very gentle as he hurried to his side. “How are you feeling?”

“Where’s Zayn? Niall?” Louis asked instead, struggling to sit up. Liam helped him and fluffed up his pillow. He even put the back of his hand to Louis’ forehead before smoothing back his hair.

“They’re safe. Everyone is. No casualties on our side.” Liam patted his hip as he sat on the edge of the bed. “Just a couple of broken bones, a few cuts, and a lot of bruises.” He lifted his shirt to reveal a huge, mottled bruise across his side.

Louis sighed with relief. “Are there patrols set up?”

Liam nodded. “You have to talk to your mum or Alberto for more details, but they haven’t sighted any men in the forest. Jay was quite determined to send a very clear message to Simon with the captives.”

Louis huffed with a small laugh.

“Your mum was here before. But she’s been really busy, and since Harry’s been here...”

Louis ducked his head. “Where _is_ Harry?” he asked, twisting the corner of the sheet.

“Eating lunch. We practically had to wrestle him out of the room,” Liam said, raising an eyebrow before breaking down and grinning.

Louis had to content himself with pinching the thin skin from the back of Liam’s hand in retaliation, making sure to pull at the hair too. Liam just giggled.

“I should probably warn you. He’s also furious- at all of us, really, for leaving him behind.”

Louis shrugged. “No choice,” he croaked.

Liam shot up to pour him a glass of diluted wine and watched as Louis drank, body tense, ready to help. “Do you want anything to eat?”

Louis shook his head as he took another sip.

“I’m fine, Liam, really,” Louis told him, dipping his fingers in the cup and sprinkling him. Liam wiped the drops off his face, brows furrowed. “I’m glad. We were worried,” he mumbled.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Louis asked, poking him in on his bruised side.

Liam winced and trapped Louis’ hand.

“There’s something I wanted to say first,” he began. “I just wanted to, um, say that... I really like you, Louis-”

Louis opened his eyes wide, chuckling when Liam went red.

“Not like that, idiot. I mean...” Liam took a deep breath. “You make Harry happy, and that’s enough. For me.”

“Are you giving me your blessing?” Louis asked, torn between laughter and embarrassment, as well as being touched.

Liam nodded solemnly.

“Right,” Louis replied. “Thank you?”

There was a soft knock on the door before Niall peeked in.

“He’s awake!” he said, looking behind him before coming inside, grinning.

Zayn and Harry, brow furrowed tragically and avoiding Louis’ eyes, followed.

“Feeling all right?” Niall asked, kneeling on the bed and putting his hand to Louis’ forehead.

“Why does everyone keep doing that?” Louis groused.

“Checking for a fever,” Liam replied as though it were obvious.

“Why would I have a fever? I don’t have a wound and I’ve not caught cold.”

“Just in case,” Niall said, after he was done taking his pulse. “Not really sure what the sequelae of a magical burnout might be.”

“ _Sequelae_ ,” Louis mocked, half-heartedly. “I’m fine. Just a bit tired.”

“That’s good, then.” Niall stared at him for a long moment then bent down to give him a long hug, burying his face against Louis’ neck. “You scared the shit out of me,” he mumbled before pulling away.

Louis rubbed Niall’s side, then turned to Zayn. “What about you then?”

Zayn crawled onto the bed and stretched out next to Louis. He hooked his arm around him and kissed his temple. “I wasn’t worried, but thanks for caring.”

“Hilarious.” Louis pushed him away in jest.

Zayn settled back against the headboard and pulled Louis into his side.

“So is anyone going to tell me what actually happened or?” Louis asked.

His breath caught when he locked eyes with Harry, sitting at the very feet of the bed, hands between his thighs.

“It was Zayn’s idea- he was brilliant,” Liam replied.

Niall assented. “Nearly gave us a heart attack in the process, but yeah.”

Louis tilted his head so he could peer up at Zayn. “Explain.”

“I figured that it was a matter of time before the men realized that the fire was an illusion, ‘cause no heat, right? I thought the first thing they were going to do was try to eliminate the source of the magic, so I set up a decoy, an illusion of myself, and moved to another location with Liam.”

“That makes sense,” Louis admitted.

“And then he thought of the dragons!” Liam put in, squeezing Zayn’s ankle.

Zayn grinned. “What’s more frightening than dragons? Of course, the dragons couldn’t breathe fire or eat anyone.”

“But then you did your bit, with that earth tremor-” Liam said.

“And nearly killed yourself doing it, but good job,” Harry piped up.

Everyone’s head whipped around to look at Harry who was frowning down at his hands, chest heaving. Niall tittered nervously.

Louis made a gesture for them all to leave and the three of them filed out.  
  
“Harry,” Louis called softly, once the door had closed behind Liam.

Harry didn’t look up and Louis couldn’t see his face with his hair falling over it.

“You were a lot nicer when I was half-unconscious,” Louis joked.

Harry made a pained noise. “I’m sorry.”

Louis bit his lip. “ _Harry._ ”

“This is my fault. I’m so sorry,” Harry whimpered.

“It’s not your fault. Where would you get that idea?”

“Yes, it is,” Harry gulped, finally looking up at Louis. “Simon sent those men, didn’t he?”

“Yes,” Louis admitted. “But-”

“I _have_ been keeping secrets, Lou,” Harry sniffled. “And those secrets put you and everyone here in danger. He hadn’t bothered you until I came here.”

Louis patted the space next to him. “Come here and give me a cuddle, will you?”

Harry gave him a look. “Why didn’t you take me with you? It was because they were after _me_ , isn’t it? You know who I am.”

Louis sighed. “Yes.”

Harry’s face scrunched up. “Fuck.”

“You couldn’t know they’d come after you, Harry, don’t be silly.”

“I thought they might. I should have told you the truth. I shouldn’t have put you in danger like this.”

“It wouldn’t have made a difference, Harry,” Louis said.

Tears leaked from Harry’s eyes and he knuckled at them harshly. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to have to leave. I was a coward. And I was so selfish.”

“No, no,” Louis cooed.

Harry shook his head. “Yes, I _was_. I have a responsibility. Simon’s out there, tyrannizing my people, and I’ve been hiding here.”

“It’s all right to be scared, Harry,” Louis said gently.

Harry bit his knuckle, a tear sliding down his cheek. “I found out who my father was a month ago. I went from baking and writing poetry in a tiny village to being a bloody _prince._ ”

“What happened?”

Harry told him about Nick and his mother and the quest he’d been sent on to defeat Simon and reclaim the throne.

“I _am_ scared, Lou,” Harry sobbed, breaking down.

“Oh, love, come here.” Louis felt his own throat closing as Harry buried his face against his chest, clinging to him as he cried.

Louis rubbed his back. “You’re so good, Harry. You’re so brave and so generous and kind and sweet and funny,” Louis whispered to the top of Harry’s head. “It’s all going to work out. It’s going to be fine.”

After a while Harry calmed down and Louis felt the weight of his body increase as he fell asleep. Louis was scared too. Terrified at the thought of Harry wandering around in the wild with a price on his head and Simon’s men searching for him. Terrified at the thought of Harry going into battle. He was so scared of losing Harry.

Louis hugged Harry closer to him, as tight as he could.

*

Louis had dozed off after a bit, and dreamed of the green of the forest in spring. When he woke up again, Harry was still sleeping, curled up against Louis with his head on his chest.

The full moon lit up the room, catching the gleam of Harry’s hair as Louis ran his fingers through it, humming under his breath. Without conscious thought, he started singing, very softly. An old love ballad he had known since he was a child.

His voice cracked mid verse and he stopped.

“Don’t stop,” Harry whispered. He lifted his head to squint at Louis with red-rimmed, swollen eyelids, and raised himself up on an elbow. “Please.”

Feeling desperately vulnerable with Harry looking at him, his hand splayed on Louis’ stomach, Louis cleared his throat and finished the song.

Harry sighed when he finished. “That was amazing, Lou.”

Louis wrinkled his nose, giving a little shake of his head.

“’s true. You have a beautiful voice,” Harry insisted, rubbing Louis’ belly absently.

“Thanks, love.”

Harry beamed at him. After a moment, however, his smile faltered. “Lou-”

Louis knew what Harry wanted to talk about and he didn’t want to hear it. Not now. If Harry had to leave he wanted to savor every last moment with him. “Kiss me, Harry, please.”

Harry’s brow furrowed. “I-”

Louis caressed Harry’s cheek and cupped his jaw, thumbing at his lower lip. “Please, just kiss me.”

And Harry did.

Their lips moved against each other, soft and tentative at first. As the kiss deepened, Louis slid his hand from Harry’s waist to his lower back and he pressed his body closer to Harry’s.

Harry pulled back, gaze flicking between Louis’ eyes and mouth, as though he couldn’t help himself. “Lou, you’re supposed to be resting.”

Louis rolled his eyes. “I’m in bed, aren’t I? Lying down even,” he replied, scooting down to lie flat on his back.

“Idiot.” Harry giggled, looking down at Louis with fond smile. Louis felt his face get all warm and he curled his hand on the back of Harry’s neck, tangling his fingers in his hair, and tugged him down to kiss him some more.

Harry pulled at the fabric of his nightshirt, bunching it up around Louis’ middle to run his palm over Louis’ bare stomach, spreading his fingers to fit around the dip of his waist.

“Wait, let me-” Harry mumbled against his lips.

Harry hurried to rip off his trousers and shirt while Louis pulled his nightshirt over his head. When he got under the covers, the two of them lay on their sides and smiled at each other as they reached out to touch.

Harry smoothed his hand up Louis’ back, drawing him closer, mouthing at his neck as Louis clutched at his arse and fitted their bodies together, entwining their legs.

Harry went still when he touched the base of one of his wings. He pulled away so he could see Louis’ face.

“Can I touch them?” he asked. Louis felt the barest brush of Harry’s knuckles on his shoulder blades. “Is that alright?”

“Yes, it’s fine,” Louis answered, breath stuttering when Harry moved from the skin on his back to the base of one wing and up the leading edge before sliding two fingers over the membrane. He drew back his hand, tucking it underneath his chin in a fist as he studied Louis with an expression on his face of such undisguised wonder that it made Louis breathless and a little lightheaded.

“You’re so beautiful,” Harry said at last.

Louis gripped his jaw with a trembling hand and pulled him in to lick into his mouth. Harry moaned low in his throat when Louis started rocking his hips.

“Harry, fuck,” Louis gasped, reaching down to take Harry’s cock in his hand and finding he wasn’t quite able to close his fingers around it. He worked his hand up and down the shaft: squeezing up and letting his thumb drag over the wet head.

Harry thrust against his hand and hip, moaning. “So good,” he slurred.

Louis panted against Harry’s neck, straining to keep up the movement of his arm even as his muscles protested. His arm gave out on him and he had to stop, letting his hand rest on Harry’s hip and sucking at the angle of Harry’s jaw in an effort to distract him.

Harry traced the tip of his ear then squeezed the back of his neck. “I’ll do it, yeah?” he said, tugging at Louis to peer into his face with obvious concern.

Louis nodded, resigned, but reached for Harry’s hand and licked from the base of his palm to the tips of his fingers, sucking two of them into his mouth for a brief moment. Harry choked on his inhale, sweat beading on his upper lip.

Then he took them both in his large hand, and Louis groaned at the tight pleasure of their cocks sliding against each other, slick with precome and saliva.

Harry was breathing hard, mouth open and wet, eyes fixed on Louis’. Louis whimpered, his fingers scrabbling for purchase on Harry’s upper arm but too weak to get a good grip. At the sound of his name in Harry’s deep voice, rough with arousal, Louis came, breathless, shooting over his stomach.

“Fuck.” Harry sucked in a shuddering breath and Louis felt Harry’s hard cock twitch against his own.

“C’mon, love,” Louis breathed, slipping his hand underneath Harry’s on his cock.

Harry groaned, muttering half-formed words Louis couldn’t make out as he worked Louis’ hand over his cock until he went still and came, spilling over both of their hands and smearing come on the curve of Louis’ hip.

Harry rolled onto his back, chest heaving.

Louis wrapped himself around Harry, ignoring the stickiness, mouthing at his shoulder while Harry caught his breath, with half a mind to never let go.

 

He _had_ let go so Harry could get them something to eat once they’d cleaned themselves up. Louis had yawned all through dinner and when they were finished eating, although it was still too early for bedtime, Harry had tucked himself in next to Louis until he fell asleep. Louis felt him get up at some point after, but he was asleep again before he turned onto his other side.

It was past noon when he woke up. He was alone in the room and he took the chance to check his strength. When he got up from the bed his head spun, but the feeling passed in an instant.

Harry came back with lunch and they ate chatting about nothing in particular, both of them avoiding the topic of Harry’s imminent departure. Louis took another nap after that, Harry’s head resting on his stomach, holding a book up to his face.

When he woke up again the sun was setting and he was curled up on his side. He rolled over, stretching, and saw Harry sitting in the chair, thrumming on what Louis recognized as Niall’s lute.

“Your wings react to the music, did you know?” Harry smiled, strumming a chord.

Louis snorted.

“It’s true,” Harry insisted. “They kind of twitch. It’s brilliant.”

Louis rolled his eyes, and flapped his wings just to make Harry laugh.

“You’ve had visitors every time you’ve been asleep,” Harry said. “Your mum even kissed your cheek and you didn’t stir.”

Louis chuckled, although it caught a bit in his throat.

Harry must have noticed because he gave Louis a worried look. Leaving the lute on the chair, he moved to sit on the bed, resting his elbow on a raised knee. “Are you feeling better?”

Louis nodded and reached out to hold Harry’s hand, brushing his fingers up and down the back of his hand.

“Louis, what is it?” Harry asked, turning his hand palm up and curling his fingers around Louis’.

Louis took a deep breath. “Harry. I need you to go get Liam and pack your stuff.”

“What, right now?” Harry asked, bewildered.

“We need to leave _now._ Before I get another round of visitors.”

Harry frowned. “We?”

“I’m taking you through the forest. I’ll drop you off at the eastern border. It’s still... I think maybe thirty miles to Corden’s castle? But it’s better than going the long way round.”

Harry gaped at him. “You can’t do magic again so soon! You’re still recovering.”

“I’m _fine_.”

Harry made a face. “Lou. Last night you couldn’t even...” He made a jerky pumping motion with his arm.

Louis covered his face with his hands, whining Harry’s name.

“Sorry,” Harry said. “But it’s true. You’re hardly in a state to go trekking through the forest.”

“I’ll manage. And it’s not up for debate. You need to get out of the kingdom, and Simon has to know that you’re out of here. Now. Not a week from now or more, which is what it would take you.”

Harry stared at him, wide-eyed. “So take us back to the inn, that was a lot closer, and we’ll go from there.”

Louis crawled out of bed. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll be fine, Harry.”

“Then why are we leaving in secret?” Harry demanded, turning to trap Louis between his spread legs, holding onto his thighs.

Louis pinched Harry’s cheek. “Because if I start arguing with Zayn and Niall, or Stan, or- godforbid- me mum, we’ll be stuck here forever.”

Harry nuzzled his face against Louis’ middle, wrapping his arms around him. “I don’t like this.”

“It is what it is, love. Now get moving.”

*

Harry had argued but he’d given in when Louis had told him that his being there endangered everyone in the kingdom.

After the crushing defeat of his men, Simon would not be underestimating them again, and word about Zayn’s illusions would spread, which meant they’d lost all possible advantage if they were attacked again.

If they wanted to avoid Simon letting loose his wrath on the kingdom they needed to give him a proper distraction... and the best way to ensure that was him going after Harry.

Louis hated it, of course, hated putting Harry out as bait and sending him off to battle on his own. But there wasn’t a choice. All he could do was make sure that Harry got to Lord Corden as quickly and safely as possible.

Liam wasn't too certain about the plan either, Louis could tell, but Harry must have talked to him because he didn’t put up a fuss when Louis led them out to the forest in the deepening dusk.

“It’s like this, then. I’m going to take your hands and sort of... pull you with me. I’m not sure what it’s going to feel like for you? It’s kind of like running on air for me?” Louis explained.

Harry had taken his hand before he was even finished speaking.

Liam adjusted the strap of his bag and his sword. “How long is it going to take?”

Louis shrugged. “I don’t know. A few hours. We’ll stop in between for a breather.”

Louis wasn’t sure how long it would take since it was a long distance and he wasn’t sure how his magic was working.

 

His magic cut a path through the woodland and they rushed through it, as swift as wind. There was no tripping over stones or roots, no branches whipping or scratching or catching on clothes... just a green blur and shadows and moonlight. Nonetheless, Louis felt the strain sooner than he expected, the muscles in his legs cramping with fatigue and his wings feeling heavier as the night wore on. It was harder when he had to take people with him, he knew that from the occasional trip with Niall and Zayn, but that had been nothing compared to pulling Harry and Liam along because faeries were lighter than humans.

After three hours he decided to stop for a break.

Louis staggered to the nearest tree and slid down with his back to the trunk to sit between its roots.

Harry crouched beside him and offered him a drink from his wine-skin.

Liam lurched behind a bush and threw up.

“You doing alright?” Louis asked Harry.

Harry nodded, lips pursed and much too pale for Louis’ comfort. He put his hand to Louis’ neck. “Your pulse is too fast.”

Louis put his hand over Harry’s and drew it to his cheek instead. Harry’s hand was cool and a little damp, and Louis was sure Harry was toughing it out.

“We left a note for Niall and Zayn,” Harry told him. “I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”

Louis gave Harry a rueful smile, nuzzling his palm. He felt heavy-lidded and heavy-limbed, now that he’d stopped. “Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Harry tilted his chin and leaned in to press their lips together. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Louis nodded. He looked up as Liam walked back to them, a bit of color returned to his face.

“Let’s go, then.” Louis got to his feet and took their hands again.

 

They went another two hours before stopping again, although the rest stop lasted for an hour because Harry had thrown up and Liam wouldn’t let them continue until they all ate something.

After a mug of scalding tea and some cold chicken and bread, Louis felt a lot stronger. However, he wasn’t sure he could manage another stop and start, so he decided to just get through the last stretch without a break.

It was almost four hours before he skidded to a stop. The three of them tripped and fell over.

“I can’t feel my legs,” Liam groaned, rolling onto his back in the layer of dead leaves. “Or my arms. Or my face.”

Harry mumbled something unintelligible, face down on the floor, limbs sprawled, still clutching Louis’ hand.

Louis, on his knees, fought down a wave of nausea. He’d never gone so long on the pathfinder magic and his heart felt like it was going to flip-flop right out of his chest.

“Shit,” he gasped.

It passed after a bit, once he sat down and ate breakfast. Harry alternated between staring at Louis as though he were trying to memorize his face and closing his eyes while he chewed, head pillowed in the crook of one arm. Liam was unusually quiet as well, but he seemed more thoughtful than tired.

“I have no idea where we are,” he said finally.

Harry squinted at him. “We were kind of lost from the moment we left the path from Holmes Chapel.”

“Yeah, but we had a map we were following... more or less.”

“Let me see it,” Louis cut in.

They spread the map out in front of the three of them, huddle up together against the chill of dawn. Louis pointed at their position.

He had chosen their path to come out in their current location for a reason: about a quarter of a mile to the east there was a waterhole around which Simon’s men had set up camp. It was just outside the range of trees, which was the reason Louis had been unable to displace them. It was also a stone’s throw from the main road that led straight to Lord Corden’s castle.

 

They walked the short distance in silence. Harry wavered for an instant then reached for Louis’ hand until Louis signalled at them to stop, close enough to hear the horses and unintelligible voices. The men didn’t seem to have stationed a guard, not expecting any attack from this quarter.

Louis stood with his hands on his hips, thinking of the layout of the area.

“Right,” he said finally.

He drew a crude map in the dirt to show them how to skirt around the outer edge of the encampment in the most direct path to the road.

“Can you ride? You can take two of their horses and be there by sunset.”

“Won’t they notice if we steal two of their horses under their noses?” Liam asked. “Security seems lax but that’s stretching our luck, isn’t it?”

Louis poked him in the side but couldn’t contain his smile at Harry’s weak giggle.

“They’ll be busy with something else,” Louis answered.

The smile disappeared from Harry’s face. He frowned at Louis. “What’s that?”

“Me.” Louis grinned, fluttering his wings. “I think a faerie popping up will be a pretty good distraction, don’t you?”

Liam and Harry spoke at the same time. “No.”

“They’ll catch you,” Liam said.

“It’s too dangerous,” Harry insisted.

Louis rolled his eyes, scoffing. “ _Please_. I’ll head them off. I know this forest like the back of my hand- and I’ve got my magic.”

Louis wasn’t as certain about his plan as he was pretending to, but it wasn’t like there was a choice. They couldn’t risk Harry being captured.

“Don’t look so tragic, Harry. I’ll be fine.” Louis cupped his cheek, thumbing at the corner of his mouth to stretch it into a smile. Harry didn’t smile. Louis’ hand dropped.

“C’mon. Don’t leave me like this,” Louis pleaded, trying to make his tone light but well aware of the quaver in his voice.

Harry managed a small, trembling smile.

“I’m going to…” Liam mumbled, turning his back on them and walking a bit away.

Louis put one hand on Harry’s waist and got on his tiptoes to kiss him. Harry jerked off his bag and pulled Louis to him, burying his face in the crook of his neck and nearly lifting Louis off his feet.

“I’ll find you again. I promise,” Harry breathed against his neck.

Louis held him tightly, throat too tight to speak.

He had to break off their embrace.

Harry sniffled. “I want to give you something.” He bent down to rummage in his bag, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

Louis crouched down next to him as Harry pulled out a piece of jewelry and pressed it to Louis’ palm. Louis inspected it: a small blue stone with copper wire twined around it to make a ring.

“Another family heirloom?” Louis asked, thinking of the medallion he’d returned to Harry before they left.

Harry shook his head. “I found it when I was a kid.” He gave a small huff of laughter. “In a fairy ring.”

Louis laughed too, softly.

“It’s beautiful.”

Harry fit the ring on his finger, mouth tight in what Louis recognized as an effort not to cry.

Louis put his arms around him again, trying to say all the things he couldn’t bring himself to voice. _You’re beautiful. You’re so special. I love you._

“Please, be careful,” he said instead.

Harry swallowed thickly. “You too.”

“Liam,” Louis called, voice hoarse. “Get over here so I can threaten you.”

“Me?” Liam piped out, wandering back. He had been close enough that he had to have heard, and his face looked blotchy even though his eyes were dry.

Louis embraced Liam. “You two better stay safe.”

Harry kept looking back at Louis until he was out of sight.

*

The camp was little more than a resting spot for Simon’s men en route to the campsite set up on Lord Corden’s doorstep. At that moment, Louis could count no more than fifteen men and their horses. This meant the chances of drawing them all out were good, which would make it easier for Liam and Harry to steal a pair of horses.

He flitted around the perimeter of the encampment in the fringes of the woodland, letting the soldiers catch glimpses of him to capture their attention. Amusement at their slack-jawed and eye-knuckling reaction to him battled with mounting apprehension as he readied himself to lure them into the forest. After some minutes, when he was sure that they would follow, he started running.

The forest blurred around him, but he had the most uncomfortable sensation that he wasn’t advancing. He stumbled. The sounds of the hunt echoed behind him, just out of sight. He could hear the horses trampling the underbrush, which was an unpleasant surprise as he hadn’t taken into account that in the outer edge of the forest the trees were spaced so wide apart horses could race without trouble. Although Louis could run quicker than any human, he was slowed down by fatigue, and he hadn’t realized just how fast men on horses could be.

He used his wings to propel him forward and tried to call on his magic, but he couldn’t get a hold of it.

The thunder of fifteen battle horses giving chase was chilling. His legs felt like they were going to give out on him at any moment; so did his heart, it was beating so fast and so hard. His lungs burned with every hitching breath.

He stumbled as an arrow grazed his thigh. Another arrow whizzed past over his head, making him flinch and lose his footing. He fell headlong, scraping his hands and forearms.

Louis tried to scramble to his feet, but they had him surrounded before he could stand up.

The soldiers closed in on him, crowding close, the hooves of their mounts coming dangerously close to trampling him before they settled in a circle around him.

One of the men poked at his back, between his wings, with the blunt end of his spear.

“It’s real, innit, Lieutenant Wootton?” he asked, mouth agape.

A rider broke off from the group, stepping into the circle and looking at Louis from high on his horse with a most unpleasant expression on his face. “It’s real, all right.”

Louis flinched from the butt of another spear, stumbling back against the line of soldiers, close enough that one of them grabbed the tip of his wing and yanked on it.

“Don’t damage it!” Wootton snapped.

Louis whirled around. “Don’t touch me, scum.” His wings were delicate and the wrench had made the back of his teeth ache.

Lieutenant Wootton shot Louis a speculative look. “Got a bit of an _attitude_ , don’t we?”

Louis lifted his chin. “You’re addressing King Louis of the faerie kingdom, so you might want to watch your tone.”

He decided to reveal his identity after quick consideration. He didn’t trust Simon to accord him preferential treatment for being royal, but he was counting on him leaving the kingdom at peace, with Harry once again on the move- an active threat-, and the king of faeries in his grasp.

Wootton’s mouth twisted into a malicious grin. “King of the faeries, huh? What a prize, boys!”

The soldiers cheered, disturbing the horses.

Louis tried to stand his ground, head held high, but sweat trickled down his back and he had to clench his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering.

“So what do we do with it, Lieutenant?” one of the soldiers asked.

Wootton shot Louis an unnerving grin. “Tie it up and throw it on the back of a horse. Simon will be very pleased with this gift. Very pleased indeed.”


	5. Chapter 5

PART IV

 

It was fortunate the horses were well trained and required little direction, because neither Harry nor Liam had much experience riding. The inside of Harry’s thighs were rubbed raw in no time, and his knees hurt from holding onto the back of the horse as they galloped down the road.

He’d had the idea to filch a pair of cloaks from the camp, so that they looked like two soldiers on an official errand. The people they met on the road all got out of the way very quickly when they caught sight of the royal crest.

The sun was setting as they reached the castle outer gates. They’d driven the horses hard, and Harry had heard Liam apologizing to his mount more than once as he urged him on. The four of them were exhausted, and Harry kept worrying that there should have been someone on their tail and there hadn’t been. Shouldn’t the men at the encampment have gone after them once they discovered the theft of their horses?

He was anxious and the guard’s vacillation on whether to let them through or not was trying his patience.

Harry kept a tight hold on the chain as the guard inspected the token for the third time. He’d learned the lesson with the goblin.

“I’m Prince Harry. Lord Corden is expecting me,” he repeated, although it sounded odd even to him.

The guard hemmed and hawed some more.

“We’ll talk to someone of authority now,” Liam cut in, hand on the hilt of his sword.

 

They were taken to a reception room. The minute they stepped inside, Liam groaned, and stood as close to the fire as he could without his cloak catching fire.

“I’ll have to take this,” the guard said, pulling on the medallion.

Harry let the chain slide from between his fingers. In the end, he had no choice but to trust these people. He knew nothing about Lord Corden, really, and maybe Nick was wrong about him... Harry didn’t know what he’d do if that was the case.

A woman came into the room, without the guard. Her face wasn’t visible in the depths of her hood.

“Who are you?” she asked, voice deep.

“I’m Prince Harry, of the House of Styles.”

“A likely story. What proof do you have?”

“The token-”

“You could have stolen it.”

“No, I-”

The woman circled around him and the firelight lit a gleam in her eyes. “If you are who you say you are, you’ll be able to tell me... until what age was Harry afraid a hag was going to come steal him from his bed?”

Harry gasped as the voice changed and he recognized his sister. “Gemma!”

She threw back her hood, grinning at him.

“Gemma! What are you doing here?” Harry threw himself into her arms. “Is mum all right?”

Gemma nodded and held his face between her hands, inspecting him carefully. “Are _you_ all right?” she asked. “I was so worried. We sent people out to find you but it was like you’d disappeared off the face of the earth.”

“Wasn’t that what we were supposed to do?” Liam quipped, after he and Gemma had embraced.

“Well, yes,” she admitted. “We just didn’t expect you to do it so well.”

“We had help with that, actually,” Liam said, glancing at Harry.

Harry could tell that Gemma had noticed their exchange, but she made no mention of it.

“We haven’t had anything to eat since this morning. Any chance of some dinner?” Liam said in a blatant attempt at changing the subject.

Gemma frowned from Liam to Harry. “You two look dead on your feet.”

With her words all the pain and exhaustion in his body came flooding back. Harry sank into one of the cushioned benches lining the wall with a groan.

“Not dead. Too hungry,” he grunted.

Gemma ruffled Harry’s hair. “I missed you, little brother.”

 

Gemma sat with them while they ate and told them about what she had been doing in the past weeks.

“Less chance of being interrupted with you two stuffing your faces,” she said.

Gemma had made sure Anne was safe on the ship, but had returned inland with Rita instead of leaving with her mother.

“And mum was fine with this?” Harry asked, gulping down some ale.

Gemma shrugged. “She knows we got to do what we got to do. Couldn’t leave my little brother to do everything by himself.”

Harry opened his mouth to protest and Gemma reached over to shut his jaw with two fingers. “Shut up and eat. It’s my kingdom and my people too.”

Harry accepted Liam’s offer of the roasted greens without further comment.

Gemma inclined her head, mouth twitching. “So. Rita and I posed as traveling BierDed Sisters- you might see them around: they’re healers, all dressed in white- and came over to meet James- Lord Corden. He’s great. Very funny.”

“The only lord who is also the court jester.” A rotund man with sparkling blue eyes and an infectious grin popped up in the doorway.

“Fortunately for us, he’s no fool, however,” Gemma said with a huff of laughter.

“Some of my advisors would not agree.” James laughed. “But I’ve thrown my lot in with you two stunning creatures and there’s no turning back now!”

He clapped Harry on the back and nodded at Liam amicably. “You’re a very handsome fellow too.”

“Thanks,” Liam replied, bemused. “You… too.”

James laughed, clapping Liam on the back as well before going around to take a seat, opposite Harry and Liam instead of at the head of the table like Gemma. “Normally I have a ‘no serious talk until after pudding’ policy, but in desperate times needs must…”

Between Gemma and James they filled Harry and Liam in on what had been going on. Gemma had arrived at the castle to find it in a state of emergency.

“She was a blessing, to be honest. Really helped calm the people down and raise their spirits,” James said.

“But why is Simon attacking you?”

James smiled wide. “He’s afraid.”

“Huh?” Liam paused with the spoon half way to his mouth.

“Oh, yes. The thing about Simon is he’s made some very poor choices. Alienating the people with his tyrannical army and the most unreasonable rise on taxes. Not to speak of his dealings with all manner of dark creatures. And all for what?” James explained. “Gold.”

“And general evil. Don’t forget that bit,” Gemma added. “He’s despicable.”

“Yes, he is,” James agreed mildly. “Now, having gold is all well and good. I don’t turn my nose up at it either, let’s be honest… But you can’t eat it.”

“He’s afraid you’ll lay siege to his castle?” Liam said.

James nodded. “Up until now he was just trying to squash an upstart lordling gathering a little too much support.” He turned to look at Harry straight in the eye. “From the moment word gets out you’re here, Harry, we’re talking about a rebellion. We’re talking treason- in his view anyway.”

“Are we ready for word to get out?” Harry asked in a small voice.

Gemma laughed. “Yes! The people are ready to revolt. Nobody wants Simon on the throne, and everyone’s going to love you.”

Harry played with the food on his plate. “Are we sure about that?”

“Well, it’s all our heads if you’re a flop,” James said. He grinned at Harry’s expression. “I’m not worried.”

Harry, however, _was_ worried. . He was worried about being the rallying point for a revolt and he was worried about going to battle, and he was worried about Louis.

 

Gemma tarried after showing Harry to his room, leaning against the back of the door with feigned nonchalance. Harry looked up from where he’d sat on the edge of the bed to take off his boots.

“Well?” Gemma prompted.

“There’s something else bothering you. I can tell,” she replied to Harry’s bewildered look.

Harry sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. “I met someone. On the way here.”

“Oh?” Gemma went over to him and sat on the bed next to him.

Harry sighed. His limbs were heavy and he needed to sleep. He’d been up and on the move for hours and hours. Gemma led his head to rest on her chest and scratched at his scalp lightly.

“I love you, baby brother.”

“I love you too, Gems,” Harry mumbled, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Want to tell me about this person you met?”

Harry shook his head. He was too tired, and he was afraid if he started talking about Louis he’d start crying. He missed him already, and he was so worried.

“Let’s get you to bed, Harry.”

*

Harry spent the next couple of days getting acquainted with the castle and the people. He met merchants and soldiers and members of the nobility, and also simple folk who had come to fight for their right to a better life. Those were the ones Harry felt closest to, with their concern for the harvest and the proper baking of bread and their love of songs and dancing. But everyone seemed to like him well enough, and James insisted that everyone was charmed by him.

“You’re adorable,” he said, kissing the top of Harry’s head.

“They’re all willing to put their lives on the line for your dimples.” Gemma rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.

Harry smiled weakly. The thought of people dying for him wasn’t exactly humorous.

 

On the fourth morning since his arrival at the castle, Harry ventured out to the battle field with Liam and Captain Aaron to visit the soldiers in their tents and inspect the layout. Lord Corden was very popular among the people of the kingdom, and once word had got around of Gemma and Harry, more and more had flocked to join the fight against Simon, so that their forces were more or less evenly matched... but Simon’s men were brutal.

“Lieutenant Wootton. He’s the worst. Bastard.” Aaron spat. “Hanged three men and cut them up like pigs.”

Harry shook his head. “That’s what we’re fighting for. To stop this.”

Aaron gave him a small smile. “Yes, sire.”

A group of peasant soldiers stopped to greet Harry. They seemed restless.

“It’s been quiet for a few days. Unusually so,” Aaron told them once the men had moved on.

“Any idea why?” Liam asked.

“Simon, I guess. He was sighted arriving six days ago. Haven’t seen him since, but he’s in there.”

“Up to no good,” another soldier muttered.

Aaron nodded. “No doubt.”

“Sire!” A page came hurrying up to them, nearly tripping over a stack of wood. “Two men are asking to see you. They say they bring urgent news.”

Harry stared at him. “Where are they?”

“I left them at the outpost,” he replied, looking surprised at Harry’s confusion. “These are _strangers_ , sire. And an odd pair too.”

Harry went cold with sudden dread.

“Bring them to me, please,” he said. “Quickly,” he added when the page hesitated.

A few minutes later he saw them: two familiar figures, wearing hats and cloaks in spite of the good weather, running toward him while the page lagged behind.

“Harry!” Niall called.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked when they reached him. “ Where’s Louis?”

Zayn seemed to deflate. “He’s not with you then,” he said, so quietly Harry almost missed it.

“He’s missing!” Niall moaned.

Shrill ringing filled Harry’s head.

“Breathe, Harry. Harry.” Liam’s voice penetrated the white noise after a moment.

“We read the note you left us.” Zayn was trembling. “And we waited. And waited.”

“They must have caught him,” Liam said in a hushed voice. “The men from the camp.”

“What men?” Niall asked.

Liam explained their escape and Louis’ planned diversion.

Zayn’s lip curled. “How could you leave him like that?”

Harry stared at him, unable to speak.

Niall shook his head. “Don’t, Zayn,” he said quietly. “What we’ve got to do is- is focus on the- the rescue mission.”

“Rescue? We don’t even know if he’s still alive!” Zayn snarled.

The blare of trumpets cut him off and Harry turned to Aaron, questioning.

“They’ve never announced themselves before.”

The five of them looked at each other in confusion.

Another round of trumpeting announced the procession. It wasn’t an attack but a show of might: row upon row of foot soldiers and in their midst the cavalry elite.

“That’s Lieutenant Wootton.” Aaron pointed him out. Harry recognized his face- he’d caught a glimpse of him at the encampment by the forest, watching one of his men brush down a horse.

“And that’s Simon.”

Harry didn’t need Aaron to identify him. Simon sat on the tallest, most magnificent white horse, clad in shining golden armor. In the crook of one arm he cradled a helmet in the shape of a lion’s roaring head, and strapped to the other arm was a shimmering shield.

Harry didn’t notice it at first, blinded by the reflection of sunlight on metal. He didn’t realize until he heard Zayn retching. Then Simon adjusted his shield, and Harry saw: stretched on the round frame like patchwork, a gradient of blue with an intricate silver crisscross pattern.

“Are those?” Liam breathed, trailing off.

It was Louis’ wings. Harry felt light headed when he noticed the dry blood, spreading  beneath the metal plate in the center.

A high keening sound was coming from Niall.

The smell of vomit reached Harry’s nose.

One of his mounted soldiers leaned close to Simon and Harry realized that it was him who was being pointed out when Simon turned his head and their eyes met. Simon smirked, adjusting his shield again, showing it off.

Then he made a sign and one of his men rode forward.

“Hear ye all! This is a warning and an show of magnanimity. King Simon doth declare that if ye desist in your treasonous actions, you may yet be pardoned. If you persist. You shall know the full extent of his wrath.”

For a long minute there was absolute silence in the camp.

“King Harry! Queen Gemma!” a voice shouted. There was a murmur of assent and echoes of agreement.

The crier glanced at Simon who inclined his head. “So be it. But know this: this is but a small taste of the doom that shall befall you.”

At his last word the fighting broke out.

Liam drew his sword in a flash and pushed Niall and Zayn behind him while Harry pulled out his own sword, the metal ringing. The world seemed out of focus, spinning around him while he stood still. One figure stood out: Lieutenant Wootton, hacking left and right from the back of his horse.

Harry moved without thought, elbowing people out of the way.

As Harry reached Wootton, his horse reared in fright. Harry understood when he caught sight of a vibrantly colored snake on the ground. He didn’t turn around, but he knew Zayn was close when the snake slithered into nothingness.

Harry lunged forward to engage Wootton, who had lost his helmet and was wielding a blood-stained axe. He raised his eyebrows when he recognized Harry.

He opened his mouth to speak but Harry smashed his fist in his face before he could. Blood spurted from his nose.

Wootton swore and started hacking at Harry. By some miracle Harry managed to dodge the blade and not trip over his own feet.

“Put down your axe and I’ll guarantee your safety!” Harry shouted, panting, keeping on the defensive. He needed answers, and if someone knew where to find Louis it was this man.

Wootton sneered at him and raised his axe. The blow hit Harry below the ribcage, knocking the air out of him, but it didn’t cut him open like it should have.  
Harry straightened and stared down at his stomach in surprise. The leather jerkin he was wearing was sliced neatly where the edge of the blade had hit it, but it had not even scratched his skin. He looked up and met Wootton’s piggy eyes.

“Witchcraft!” he shouted, pointing a finger at Harry dramatically.

Harry had to agree. There was no explanation but magic for what had just happened.

“Drop your axe,” Harry repeated, pointing his sword at the base of Wootton’s neck.

Wootton, face twisted in a mixture of fear and disgust, threw down his axe.

*

Zayn’s footsteps echoed in the underground corridor as he hurried to catch up with Harry.

“Liam?” Harry asked, unclenching his jaw, once Zayn matched his stride.

“He’s not going to want to see this,” Zayn replied ominously.

Harry turned to Zayn, wide-eyed. There was sweat beading on Zayn’s forehead and his lips were pale.

“He’s not going to just tell us, is he?” Zayn’s breath smelled like vomit and wine.

Harry didn’t answer.

James was waiting for them at the end of the next passage, before the prison cell door. He clapped Harry on the back and shook Zayn’s hand, his face uncharacteristically somber.

“What are you going to do?” Harry asked him with trepidation, gaze flickering to the iron grating on the heavy, wooden door.

“Nothing,” James said. “Luckily we’ve got people for that.” He gave Harry a rueful smile. “I don’t like it any more than you do, but this is war.”

“Maybe it won’t come to that.” Harry took a deep breath. “Let me talk to him first.”

*

Zayn was so tense next to him, Harry could feel the vibration of his wings even though they were flexed over his back.

“Tell me where he is.”

“Who?”

“Louis.”

Wootton shrugged, the movement constricted as he was tied down to the chair. “I don’t know who that is.”

Harry’s nails dug into the flesh of his palm. “The faerie you captured.”

“Oh.” Wootton laughed. “Simon loved it. He was very generous in his gratitude for such an unique gift.”

“I don’t care how much he gave you for him. I want to know where he is now.”

Wootton shrugged again.

“Answer him!” Zayn snapped.

Wootton spat at Harry, hitting his cheek. “It’s worthless now. Simon got what he wanted out of it.”

Harry wiped the spit off his face. A part of him wanted to leave the cell and tell James to fetch the people who could extract the information from Wootton, but another part of him recoiled at the thought.

He looked down at the hint of raw pink skin peeking out beneath the manacles that held him to the chair. Harry frowned. With the grime and the blood he hadn’t spotted it before: too tight on his fat finger, wire digging into flesh. Harry grabbed his hand and stared at the ring, nostrils flaring as he inhaled.

Wootton huffed. “A pretty trinket of no use to it now.”

Harry wrenched it off so violently he heard two of Wootton’s fingers crack, bent too far back.

Wootton yelled and Zayn backhanded him hard across the face. “We’re not messing around. Tell us where he is or you’re not going to have fingers left to wear rings again,” he hissed.

Wootton started talking.

 

“So he’s still alive,” Liam said when he heard. “That’s good.” Liam had his arms around Zayn, who hadn’t stopped shaking since he left the prison cell.

Zayn made a strangled noise in his throat. “Unless he was lying.”

Harry shook his head. “He would have lied telling us Louis was dead because he knew that’s what would hurt us the most. He was afraid. He was telling the truth.”

He had to believe that. The alternative was too terrible.

“So what are we going to do?” Liam asked.

“We’re getting him back,” Zayn replied in a hollow voice.

*

Nobody was keen on Harry joining the rescue mission. James and two of his most trusted advisors, Reggie and Hagar, along with Gemma, Niall, Zayn, and Liam had sequestered themselves in the council room to plan the rescue. It had been more than two hours and they were going in circles around the same arguments. It was driving Harry mad.

Zayn was reduced to glaring at everyone from a corner of the room, sitting curled up with his knees to his chest. Liam sat at the table, but he wouldn’t stop fidgeting. Niall was the calmest. He’d been working with the wounded until they’d called him in for the meeting, and it appeared to have settled him- having the chance to be useful.

Harry, however, was far from calm. He kept pacing up and down in spite of repeated requests to sit down.

“It’s too dangerous. It’s just not worth it.”

Harry lost his temper. He picked up a goblet from the table and threw it at the wall next to Reggie’s head. James’ look of surprise was comical. A strangled giggle escaped Niall.

“This discussion is _over_ ,” Harry said through gritted teeth, keeping a white-knuckled grip on the back of a chair to keep himself from sweeping everything off the table. “I’m going.” He took a deep shuddering breath. “I’m getting Louis out tonight, if I have to do it alone.”

Everything moved a lot faster after that. Within the hour they had a plan. It involved waiting until dark and Harry thought he was bound to go mad in the meantime.

Liam led Zayn out of the room, whispering to him, while Gemma showed Niall to a bedroom so he could rest, leaving Harry alone in the meeting room. Harry forced himself to at least sit down and eat something, although every time he swallowed he felt like he might choke. All the energy seeped out of him and he sat, sprawled on the chair, in a half-catatonic state, until Liam knocked on the door to fetch him.

  
The camp was dark and silent. It was clear Simon wasn’t expecting any retaliation for his attack that afternoon. James had said that Simon had a habit of underestimating people. 'He’s quite convinced he’s the smartest person to ever exist. And that’s a dangerous way of thinking.'

They avoided two outer camp sentries easily, just by slipping past them in the shadows and a vague distraction created by Zayn’s magic.

“I don’t like this. It doesn’t feel right,” Liam whispered, as they crept through the fringes of the camp. Wootton had said they were keeping Louis in a tent toward the far end of the camp.

“Think it might be a trap?” Niall asked.

“Why would he think I would come rescue Louis? He doesn’t know we know each other,” Harry replied. Though he couldn’t get out of his head Simon’s smirk when he’d caught Harry’s eye, or the way he’d adjusted his shield- had that been a coincidence or had he meant for Harry to see it?

“It doesn’t matter. If it’s a trap we’re already in it,” Zayn said.

They went on in silence.

By the time they reached the back of the camp, Harry’s fingers were cramped from a too tight grip on the hilt of his sword.

They all stopped when they saw the tent. It was the one tent with a light burning inside it. A guard was stationed outside, staring out into the darkness.

“Do you think there’s anyone else inside?” Niall asked as they huddled together, crouching in the shadows.

Zayn shushed him; Niall’s whispering was very audible. “Wootton said there wouldn’t be.”

They all exchanged looks- there was no guarantee he’d been telling the truth about that.

Liam shouldered Harry behind him as the flap of the tent opened and a soldier came out. He was holding a wooden pitcher and a bowl.

“Waste of time,” he muttered.

The guard reached for the bowl. “Give me that, if he ain’t gonna eat it.”

The soldier handed him the bowl with a shrug and the guard slurped at the bowl. “It’s bloody cold,” he said defensively. “And I gotta stand here all night. Like he’s gonna get up and fly away.”

They both sniggered. Harry didn’t realize he was leaning forward until he felt Liam digging his fingers into his shoulder to keep him still.

The guard raised the bowl to his mouth again. “He didn’t eat any of it?”

“Don’t reckon he has much of an appetite,” the soldier replied. “Got him to drink a little water, though.”

The guard cooed. “What a bedside manner. Gonna leave us to join the BierDed sisterhood?”

The soldier hit him upside the head. “Simon said to keep him alive.”

The guard snorted. “Don’t know what for. He had his fun, didn’t he? Him and Dan. Got what he wanted, anyway, them pretty wings for his shield.”

The soldier huffed. “‘s not my place to ask questions.” He clapped the guard on the back. “I’m going to bed. A good night to you.”

“Yeah, standing here in the cold,” the guard grumbled. He stomped his legs, trying to keep warm.

Harry turned to Zayn once the soldier had disappeared from sight. Zayn nodded, but they still waited in case he came back. Harry couldn’t wrap his head around the idea of Louis being inside that tent. Hurt. He knuckled the prickling from his eyes impatiently.

“Zayn,” Liam prompted.

“Wait.”

They watched as something caught the guard’s attention. He walked forward, looking at the ground, turning his back on them.

“Quick now!” Zayn poked Liam.

The guard bent over, reaching for something on the ground- Harry thought it was a golden coin- when Liam knocked him out with a blow to the back of the head, and he dropped like a sack of potatoes.

Harry grabbed Niall’s hand and they hurried to the tent while Liam started dragging the guard under the armpits to put him in his place, as though he’d fallen asleep on duty. Zayn kept watch.

Niall pulled open the tent flap and held it open for Harry to step through.

The smell hit him first: blood- like the butcher’s back home. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. He noticed the wooden rack first: propped up on one side of the tent with thick ropes in a messy coil at its feet.

Niall rushed ahead of him and Harry forced himself to look away from the rack. Louis was on a low cot, lying curled up on his side under a blanket, face tucked into the crook of his elbow.

“Shit,” Niall hissed when lowered the blanket down to his hip to uncover his back. Harry walked forward as though on stilts, feeling numb. He saw the jagged stumps of the base of his wings, jutting from between his shoulder blades. There was a lot of congealed blood and a lot of bruising, visible even in the dim light, on his back and down his rib cage. Niall prodded carefully at his spine and his sides while Harry stood frozen.

Niall straightened. “Gotta be careful moving him. He’s got a couple of broken ribs.”

“Can’t you heal him?” Harry asked.

Niall pressed his lips together. “It’s not a scratch, Harry. And you know healing magic is limited.” He tugged the blanket up. “Let’s wrap him up in the blanket. You need to carry him over your shoulder. Try not to touch his back.”

He reached over to shake Harry’s arm. “Harry, c’mon.”

Harry swallowed with difficulty. Louis whimpered when they moved him, his face twisting in pain, and Harry had to grit his teeth to continue.

*

They made it back without incident, though Harry winced every time he heard Louis whimper.

Four soldiers were waiting for them back at their camp with a stretcher to carry Louis up to the castle. Zayn, Niall, Liam and Harry followed them. They didn’t take him to the long hall where the wounded from battle were being tended, but down another corridor to a set of private rooms.

Before the door were a pair of girls dressed in the white habit of the sisterhood. One of the soldiers bumped against the door frame as he entered, facing backwards, and the blanket slipped off Louis. Harry felt Zayn stiffen next to him, and a strangled gasp escape him when he saw Louis’ naked back.  

Niall went through after the stretcher with one of the girls, but when Harry made to follow the other stopped him, shutting the door in his face.

Gemma arrived at that moment. She took one look at Zayn who’s teeth were chattering, clinging to Liam, forehead pressed against his shoulder. “Take him back to the hall. One of the sisters will give him something to calm him down,” she instructed Liam. “He’s in shock.”

“You come with me.” She grabbed Harry by the hand and pulled him down the corridor. Harry followed, stumbling as he looked back at the closed door behind which they’d taken Louis.

Gemma took him to his room. She helped him out of his clothes, washed the grime off his face and hands, and put him to bed.

“I need to see Louis,” Harry said, coming out of his stupor.

“You can see him later. The healers are with him now.”

Harry wasn’t aware of when he started crying, but the next moment he was weeping in his sister’s arms. At one point someone must have come in, because Gemma held a cup to his lips: warm, soothing tea, that he gulped down between sobs. He felt himself getting drowsy and the vague thought crossed his mind that the tea was drugged.

“Gems, they hurt him so badly,” Harry murmured. “How could they do that?”

Gemma held him. She hadn’t asked questions when Harry had stormed up from the battle and interrogating Wootton and announced they were going on a rescue mission, and she didn’t ask any now.

“I love him,” Harry sobbed.

Gemma kissed the side of his head and rocked him in her arms. “Oh, H.”

“What if he dies?” Harry despaired, fighting off the tea. “I can’t-”

“If anyone can help him it’s Mother Sophia. She’s the best healer in the land.”

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, gripping onto her dress, wracked with pain at the thought of losing Louis.

Gemma crooned at him until he fell asleep.

*

Harry woke up disoriented. By the light he thought it was past noon. He glanced down at his hand and saw the bruising on his knuckles- then everything came rushing back. He dressed in a hurry and ran all the way to the healing ward. He stopped in front of the door, breathing hard.

He went to open the door just as somebody pulled it open. It was the two sisters from the night before. They exchanged a glance and stepped outside, closing the door behind them.

“You can’t go in.”

“Mother Sophia has instructed that no one be allowed inside.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair. “How is he? Please, I need to see him.”

“Mother Sophia will do all she can to help him.”

“That’s not an answer!” Harry half-shouted.

The one carrying a stack of folded sheets gave him a small smile. “Your friend is with him as well, if that is of comfort to you.”

The three of them stared at each other and none of them moved.

“Harry, I was looking for you,” Gemma appeared around the corner.

She nodded at the girls. “Sister Eleanor. Sister Danielle.”

They inclined their heads in unison at Gemma.

“C’mon, Harry.” Gemma tugged at him.

Harry shook her off. “I want to see Louis.”

“Harry. He’s getting the help he needs. And we need to talk.”

“About what?” Harry turned to her in bemusement.

Gemma gave him a pitying look. “The uprising isn’t over, Harry.” She shook her head. “Simon is still king and determined to kill us, remember?”

 _Simon._ Harry had never felt such hatred in his life. Simon had not only taken his father from him and exiled his family, but now he’d done this to Louis. The twinge of pain made him aware that he’d closed his hands into fists.

He shot a last longing look at the closed door before following Gemma down the hall; waiting outside the council room were Zayn and Liam.

“What are you doing out here?” Gemma asked them.

Liam rubbed the back of his neck. “Um. It’s just, it’s all these high-born advisors...”

“You’re my advisor,” Harry said.

Liam looked Harry over and must have seen something in his face because when he inclined his head it was more of a bow than a nod.

“And Zayn is Louis’,” Harry added. “And my friend.”

“Good. So that’s that.” Gemma ushered them inside.

There was a battle to plan.

*

After the meeting stretched on until well into the evening, Gemma let him know there was no chance he would be allowed in to see Louis that night. She dragged Harry back to his room, insisting he needed to get some rest.

Harry didn’t have a very restful night, but he did manage to sleep for a few hours. He’d woken up before the break of dawn and rushed down to the healing ward, but after a sleepy looking Danielle had turned him away, he had retreated back to his room with a bad headache- which saved him from having to join another meeting in which everything that had been decided the previous day would be questioned over and over for the sole pleasure of approving it once again.

Niall found him just when Harry was debating whether to go get some dinner.

Harry lurched to his feet. “How-”

Niall smiled at him. “He’s awake. He was asking for you.”

Harry forgot all about dinner as he hurried to the healing ward with Niall, who seemed in a good mood until just outside the room when he grabbed Harry’s wrist to stop him from opening the door.

“Um.” Niall sighed. “Just... he’s kind of out of it. We’ve been giving him poppy. For the pain.”

Harry’s stomach clenched. “He’s in a lot of pain?”

Niall’s eyes were dim. “Yeah,” he mouthed, as though the sound had died in his throat.

He opened the door and let Harry step inside.

Louis was lying in bed on his side, facing away from the door. Harry looked at Niall questioningly: the jutting remains of the bases of the wings were gone, instead his whole torso was wrapped in gauze, with thick padding between his shoulder blades.

There was dry blood spotting the fabric.

“They didn’t do a very clean job of it, so we had to, um.” Niall swallowed thickly. “Pare them down.”

Harry stared at him in horror.

“He passed out... pretty quickly,” Niall said, voice hollow.

The two of them reached out to embrace each other at the same time.

Harry waited until Niall had closed the door behind him to approach the bed. He knelt on the floor at the side of the bed, taking Louis in. He was hollow-eyed and very pale. The cut at the corner of his mouth was faded to a faint scar, and the rope burns on his wrists were just tender, pink skin. With his magic Niall could heal scrapes and scratches, but just accelerate the healing of other wounds.

Louis’ hands were cold when Harry wrapped his own hands around them.

Louis opened his eyes. “Hey, Hazza,” he slurred, blinking slowly. “King Harold.”

Harry choked on a combination of sob and laugh. “Not yet, Lou.”

Louis fingers twitched against his own. “King to me.”

Harry blinked the tears away furiously and Louis shushed him softly, eyes closed.

Harry pressed his lips to Louis’ knuckles. “I love you.”

Louis hummed, his fingers twitching in Harry’s hand again.

Harry lowered his head, keeping his lips pressed to Louis’ hands between his own. He wasn’t sure how long he stayed in that position until, all of a sudden, the pain in his knees flared and he felt eyes on him.

He raised his head and saw her: standing by the window, dressed all in white, with dark hair and very green eyes. It couldn’t be anyone but Mother Sophia. He hadn’t even noticed her when he walked into the room.

Harry felt his eyes well up again. “Is he...?”

Sophia folded her hands before her. “A great evil was done upon him.”

“But he’s going to live, isn’t he? He’ll recover?” Harry asked desperately, choking up.

She contemplated Louis for a long moment. “I cannot say for sure. His wounds are grievous.”

Harry fought to stop himself from breaking down.

“But I am hopeful,” Sophia said, voice gentle. “Do not despair.”

Harry nodded, gulping down a whimper. Louis mumbled something unintelligible, a crease between his eyebrows. Harry thought he caught his name.

He bit down hard on his lip, trying to stop himself from crying.

“Simon’s atrocities should not go unpunished,” Sophia said vaguely before turning back to look out the window.

*

“What is he waiting for?”

“Whatever it is, it can’t be good. We should attack now.”

“Suppose we could work it in our favor.”

“It’s too much of a risk.”

“Let’s give it some time.”

“We don’t have time!”

“But what is he waiting for?”

The circular argument in every meeting was driving Harry to distraction. He preferred to spend his time reviewing battle strategy with the war veteran and strategist Lieutenant Azoff, or training with Liam.

He would visit Louis late at night- even though he was asleep- because he needed to see him, if only for a little while. Harry would have slept on the floor just to be near him, but the healers refused to let Harry stay the night.

Niall kept him informed, though. He told him Louis was awake for short periods, but the pain medicine kept him down most of the time. Harry hated to think of Louis in so much pain, and threw himself into preparation for the battle if only as a distraction.

*

Harry had fallen into a deep, exhausted sleep the moment he’d got into bed. His sleep had been fractured ever since he left the faerie kingdom, so that when he woke up his first thought was to turn around and go back to sleep. Then there was a tremendous noise and the mirror hanging on the wall fell with a crash as the whole castle shook for an instant.

Harry jumped out of bed and ran to look out the window.

The sun was rising over the horizon, soft light bathing what he could see of the battlefield; Simon’s camp was a blur of darkness in the distance. Harry squinted at the dark shapes moving across the flat expanse. His heart thudded in his chest as made out what they were.  He’d never seen them before but there was no doubt: trolls. At least ten that he could see. Was this what Simon had been waiting for? Reinforcements?

He learned what the disturbance that had woken him up had been as a boulder flew past his line of sight and impacted somewhere on the battlements with a deafening noise. The castle shook again.

How had the trolls crept up on them, though? Trolls weren’t known for their stealth, and regular watches had been set around the perimeter of the castle and the encampment.

Harry dressed and ran down the stairs to the meeting room, where he found James and Gemma having breakfast.

“Bit of a rude awakening, wasn’t it?” James greeted him, bleary-eyed and unshaven.

“How did they get past without us knowing?” Harry demanded.

James dunked a roll in his cup. “Your guess is as good as ours,” he said, through a mouthful. “But we suspect witch involvement.”

Harry shook his head. “I met some on the way. They told me they weren’t getting involved.”

“Witches aren’t a united group. They do what they want. We tried to get in touch with a few of the more well-known ones while you were...” Gemma said.

“On your detour,” James filled in, delicately.

“But none of them were interested in offering their services,” Gemma concluded.

“But you think they might be helping Simon?”

“There was talk of a powerful witch who was on friendly terms with him. Anne Marie, she’s called.”

“Probably bonding over their shared love for causing misery and hoarding gold,” James put in.

Harry pulled at his bottom lip in a nervous gesture. “So what do we do?”

Gemma looked up at him with a wry grin. “We fight.”

“Not much choice but to engage now,” James said, popping the last of his roll into his mouth. “Unless we want to sit here debating while the castle crumbles around us.”

“Not ideal.” Harry’s mouth curved into a small smile.

James laughed. “Bit of an inconvenience, yes.”

James insisted on leading the force against the trolls, 'That’s my castle they’re trying to tear down! Besides, I fancy naming my hammer Trollsmasher, and I need something to back it up.'

Both Gemma and Harry argued over heading the front line of attack until Lieutenant Azoff shut them down in favor of sending his own children instead. 'You’re the faces of the rebellion. No good if you lose your heads.'

Harry had argued they also had arms and legs to no effect. 'Kings and queens don’t lead an army into battle.'

Therefore, Gemma and Harry kept to the sidelines of the fighting, their main function being to encourage with words and support with their swords.

But very soon everything got messy, disorganized, the fighting dirty, relentless. At every turn an opponent bent on survival.

They lost each other when the trolls joined the battle. Of the ten that Harry had seen there remained five, which was enough to wreak havoc in the field. Simon’s men were as much a target for the indiscriminate trolls as they were, and alliances of necessity formed to bring them down.

Once the trolls were defeated there was a change in the air- it was the turning point and the height of the battle; the moment when men needed to be reminded what they were fighting for and who would recompense them in life... or honor their names in death. Harry kept expecting Simon to surface but he didn’t show, even as the battle came to a standstill.

Gemma climbed onto a crate one of the soldiers set before her.

“Listen to me all! I am Gemma, of the House of Styles, and I stand before you as daughter of the rightful king, whose life and throne were taken from him by Simon of Cowell, guilty of vile treachery and most egregious murder.

You all have suffered under his tyranny for too long! Simon has burned your towns, laid waste to your crops, bled you of every last coin, and consorted with creatures of darkness, all in his quest to enrich himself.

My brother and I, you know us! We have broken bread with you and toasted your health and shared your troubles. And we have fought and _will_ fight for you! This is not a war against anyone but Simon, and those who stand with him for their pleasure in plunder and villainy.

This is the moment of truth. To our erstwhile enemies I say: throw down your weapons and you shall be pardoned. Is Simon worth dying for?

Let all who would have a king for the people- a king for justice and plenty for all- join us!”

Harry stared at Gemma in awe as she pumped her arm into the air to a rousing cheer. Even some of Simon’s men looked doubtful, wavering. Harry noticed them turning to peer at their camp, expectant. A low mutter of Simon’s name spread among the multitude.  

“Simon Coward!” Harry shouted. “Let him show himself and face his enemies!”

Gemma looked down at him in surprise, then gave a sharp nod of approval. Several people snickered and ‘coward’ rang through the crowd before a gradual hush fell over the field.

Simon appeared out of nowhere it seemed. He walked his horse forward at a slow pace in a clear swagger, the sun glinting on his shining armor and helmet. He raised his hand high and everyone leaned forward in expectation of a formal address.

“Watch out!” a single voice called out just as Simon lowered his arm.

A storm of arrows shot toward them. Men fell around Harry, including Simon’s own soldiers. There were cries out outrage, and mayhem broke out.

 

To his amazement, nothing seemed to touch Harry. Or at least no blade pierced his skin.

Though he could as good as feel the bruises blooming with each blow.

The witches’ words echoed in his head: _A spell of protection, to keep him in one piece until he stands before Simon, then it’s up to him._ It seemed clear that he had one purpose, and that was to get to Simon.

Harry fought on, keeping an eye on Simon in the distance, watching him cutting down people from atop his horse.

Until he saw him turn his horse around and start riding away from the battle.

“No!” Harry looked around for a horse with increasing panic as Simon wove among the fighting toward the road. “Simon Coward! Coward!”

Harry’s cries were echoed as people began to realize Simon was attempting to flee.

Harry caught sight of a horse with no rider and scrambled toward it. 

The horse reared, almost throwing him off, before it jolted forward and started moving. Faster and faster as Harry gripped with his knees and leaned forward, shouting breathless encouragement. Before long he was gaining on Simon, who was weighed down by his armor. Simon twisted in his seat to look back at Harry in alarm. Then he wrestled out of his breastplate and threw his helmet aside... but it was too late, with one kick of his heels that made the horse surge forward, Harry was parallel to him.

He knocked Simon off his horse, throwing himself at him so that the both of them fell in a tangle. Without even thinking about it, he threw a punch at Simon’s jaw that made his head snap back. Shoulder and knuckles throbbing, Harry rolled onto his feet.

 “Come to claim your revenge?” Simon spat blood from the cut on the inside of his cheek. Harry drew his sword, and Simon moved forward- he was quick on his feet and his blows were savage, unrefined but effective.

He struck Harry’s side, the edge of the blade scraping over bone before Harry stepped back so that it trailed down to his navel but without cutting too deep. The pain was terrible and he cried out, clutching at his side. Simon didn’t let up and Harry had to use both hands to push back his sword before he managed to put some distance between them.

“Have you ever killed someone? Hm?” Simon circled around him, sweeping his sword in an arch. “Too much of a boy to face a man.”

“You’re not a man, you’re a monster!”

Simon smirked. “You’re nothing but a _boy_. Fancy yourself a dragon-slayer, do you? The noble prince in a fairy tale. But there is no happy ending! Not for you or your little ruined butterfly.” 

Harry felt blood pounding in his temples, throbbing. “ _Don’t-_ ”

Harry lunged. The blades screeched as they made contact and slid against each other then separated, Simon’s sword glancing off Harry’s thigh.

Simon raised his eyebrows. “He didn’t say much, I’ll grant you, but it wasn’t hard to figure it out.” He unbuckled his gorget and tore it off, rolling back his shoulders. “Harry, Harry, Harry,” he taunted. “I’ve become very familiar with your name. He screamed it- over and over.” 

Harry felt his body shaking; he was breathing hard, fury boiling inside him.

 “When we started on the second wing he lost the ability to articulate words,” Simon went on. He simpered at Harry, wiping the sweat beading his brow. “But I’m certain he was wishing for you to save him.”

Harry snarled, his chest pounding with anguish and hatred, and went low with his next blow, but Simon blocked it and smashed his elbow in Harry’s face. His whole head was pounding as he shook it, trying to clear the lights from his vision.

“You might have chosen your allies more carefully. Faeries are more decorative pieces, really. That shade of blue went very well with my armor, don’t you think? And the touch of red? I couldn’t quite get all the blood off, but I think it worked.”

Harry moved forward. Their swords met, once, twice. Harry brought his heel down hard on the arch of Simon’s foot and knocked his sword out of his hand when he staggered, crushing Simon’s fingers with the pommel of his sword.

Simon raised his hands, laughing with a fixed smile on his face. “Ah. Not so useless after all. What are you going to do now? _Kill me_?”

Harry’s lip curled as he pulled back his arm and drove his sword through Simon’s chest, piercing his heart. When he drew out his sword, coated in blood, his arm fell heavy to his side.

Simon toppled to his knees, blood welling between his lips and spilling in a trickle down his chin.

With a strangled yell, Harry swung his sword in a wide arch and sliced Simon’s head off. It went flying five feet away, rolling on the grass before shuddering to a stop.

The sword dropped from Harry’s hand, fingers numb. Mark had been right: muscle _was_ tough, bone _was_ hard, and you had to _mean_ it.

He fell to his knees, heaving under the onslaught of sobs wracking his body.

Simon was dead. Harry had killed him.


	6. Chapter 6

PART V

 

“Harry!” Liam skidded to his knees in front of him. He tilted Harry’s head up, his hands firm but gentle. “Are you hurt? Harry?”

Harry was crying too hard to answer. He threw his arms around Liam, who held him carefully, wary of injuries.

“Harry, talk to me, please?” Liam pleaded after a while, once Harry had calmed down a bit.

“I’m f-fine,” Harry stammered. He pulled back to look Liam over, holding onto his shoulders. “Are _you_ alright?”

Liam nodded. “A few scrapes, nothing more.” He turned to Simon’s body, eyes flitting to his head lying a few feet away.

“He’s dead.” Harry sniffled.

“That he is,” Liam replied, wide-eyed.

Harry wasn’t sure what expression he had on his face, but it made Liam frown. He wrapped a hand around the back of Harry’s neck. “Hey, look at me. Harry, he would have killed you. It was him or you.”

“I know,” Harry sighed, closing his eyes.

They remained in that position for some time: foreheads pressed together, kneeling on the ground.

“C’mon, let’s get you up to the castle,” Liam said finally, helping Harry to his feet.

The ride back to the castle aggravated the wound in his side, and Harry was panting with pain by the time he limped into the healing ward, despite Liam slipping under his arm to support some of his weight.

They watched Niall tending to a soldier while a servant let Harry know that Gemma was safe. The moment he caught sight of them, Niall came running.

“Harry! Liam!” Niall laughed with relief. He kissed them both on the cheek and kept a hand on Harry’s shoulder, rubbing gently. He looked around with a slight frown. “I’ve lost Zayn. He’s been following me around all day and now he’s disappeared.”

“He’s been helping you?” Liam asked, surprised. “I thought he couldn’t stand the sight of blood.”

“Oh, no. He’s just been lurking around,” Niall explained. “Keeping me company. There hasn’t been that much to do, actually. A lot of deserters on Simon’s side, apparently.”

“I killed Simon.” Harry tried voicing it out loud.

Niall looked at him in surprise. Then he gave Harry’s shoulder a squeeze. “ _Good_. Now let’s take a look at you.”

He led Harry to an out of the way cot, behind some curtains, and examined him.

“It’s not too bad. But all together you must feel like a giant bruise,” Niall pronounced finally.

The three of them chuckled, except Liam didn’t stop giggling and it devolved into sobbing in a matter of seconds.

“Liam?” Harry reached for him while Niall stood with his mouth open.

Liam shook his head, wiping his eyes. “Sorry.” He inhaled deeply. “’s just... when I saw you go after Simon, I thought by the time I reached you, you’d be dead.”

Niall pulled Liam and Harry into a hug. “I love you two. Human and all.”

Harry had been healed by Niall before but this time he was awake for it. The bleeding cut across his middle became a long scabbing line, which was still quite tender underneath the dressing. Niall found it hilarious that Harry had sprained two of his toes, but he sobered when he inspected the cut on his thigh.

“A little higher, a little deeper, and you would have bled out in minutes,” he said. “Don’t start crying again, Liam.”

Liam shook his head, but he looked grave as Niall closed the cut, since it wasn’t as deep as the wound on his abdomen.

“That’s all I can do,” Niall declared. “Now you need to rest. I’ll get you some willow tea if you’re in pain.”

Harry sat up. He hurt but it wasn’t too bad. “I want to see Louis.”

“You need to get cleaned up and rest first. Louis isn’t any worse.”

 

Harry agreed to the bath because he was covered in dirt and blood but he was determined to get his rest in Louis’ room. Once he was clean, exhaustion caught up with him, but Harry would still have crawled half the length of the castle if a page hadn’t intercepted him.

“Lord Corden begs to see you, sire.”

Harry hesitated. “Is he seriously hurt?”

“He entreats your presence,” the page repeated.

Concern burst in Harry’s chest and fueled him with enough energy to follow the page to James’ room. He had expected his family to be at his death bed, but James was alone except for a healing sister. He had a bandage wrapped around his head, covering his left eye.

“Harry!” he exclaimed. He groaned as he stretched to set his goblet down on the bedside table. “Come give me a hug.”

He pulled Harry against his chest, smelling strongly of wine.

“What happened to you?” Harry asked when they separated, sitting on the bed.

“A troll wanted my head. Got away with my eye but I managed to keep the rest,” James told him, smiling.

Harry winced.

James waved his hand dismissively. “It could have been worse. And the wine helps.” He motioned for Harry to hand him the goblet and he took a sip before offering it to Harry. “You look like you could use some.”

Harry drank deeply. By the taste, the wine was laced with some painkiller medicine.

“So.” James smiled wearily. “The king is dead, long live the king,” he said, half-laughing.

Harry’s lips twitched.

“We won, Harry. Simon’s defeated.” James patted his hand.

Harry nodded. “That’s good.”

“It’s very good. The people rejoice and they welcome you with open arms, Harry.”

Harry ducked his head. “The people did most of the work.”

James smiled at him and patted his cheek. “Sweet boy. You can include that in your coronation speech.”

Harry hadn’t given much thought to what would come after the battle. After Simon. And now that it was done, everything seemed unimportant unless Louis was at his side. He was restless to go to him.

James handed him the goblet again. “Go rest, Harry, you wonderful boy.”

The sister followed him out and locked arms with him as she guided him down the hall. Harry expected her to lead him to his room but she took a different route.

“Thank you,” he croaked when he realized she was taking him to Louis.

Harry crawled into the bed and lay next to Louis. He took in the sweep of his eyelashes and the curve of his lips. He didn’t touch him, as much as he wanted to, not wanting to wake him when he appeared to be sleeping so peacefully.

Harry dropped off without being aware of it.

*

Wakefulness came to him very slowly. His body felt sore, but not too painful, and the air smelled sweet and fresh. Harry licked his lips.

Something tickled his cheek and he wrinkled his nose and rubbed his cheek against his shoulder.

He heard a very soft giggle. His forehead creased, still half-asleep. Something brushed against his cheek again. Like someone was blowing in his face. Frowning, he opened his eyes.

Harry blinked Louis’ face into focus: he was looking at Harry, biting his lip through a smile. His eyes went crescent shaped when Harry gasped.

“Sorry.” Louis giggled. “You wouldn’t wake up and I was starting to get sleepy again.”

Harry reached to touch him, hands shaking. “Lou.”

“I missed you,” Louis whispered.

Harry closed the distance between them and pressed their lips together, cupping Louis’ face in one hand. Louis sighed against his lips and hooked their ankles together as Harry stroked Louis’ cheek and his jaw and the point of his ear.

Harry reached for his hand and held it to his chest, giving it a squeeze. Louis curled his fingers around Harry’s and tried to squeeze back, but there was little pressure behind it. With a surge of emotion, Harry interlaced their fingers and pressed their lips together one last time before drawing back.

“How do you feel?” Harry asked, looking him over carefully. Louis had been half-conscious the one time Harry had spoken to him and from what Niall had given him to understand, that was the most alert he’d been since his rescue.

Harry noted Louis wasn’t as pale, and he looked aware, though Harry thought there was a strain in his eyes. “Are you in pain?”

Louis shook his head minutely. “What happened to you?” he asked, tracing the bandage on Harry’s abdomen with the tips of his fingers.

Goosebumps rose across Harry’s body and he shivered. Louis let his hand drop, though Harry was hyperaware of the touch of his knuckles against his skin.

“Swords are sharp,” Harry replied, rubbing his calves against Louis’.

Louis rolled his eyes. “Twat.”

Harry smiled at him. He was elated just being here with Louis; it felt miraculous to have him talking again.

“You went off to battle and nobody told me,” Louis said suddenly, fingers twitching against Harry’s chest.

“I came to see you. You don’t remember?”

Louis made a little sound that Harry wasn’t sure meant yes or no. “I remember yesterday. I could hear the fighting through the window and people running around in the hall outside.”

Harry nodded. “The battle went on for hours. The trolls were the worst.”

“Is everyone safe? Niall and Zayn and Liam?”

“Yes. They’re all fine.”

“Were there many wounded? Dead?” Louis asked, voice small.

Harry shook his head. “No. Victory will be a time of celebration, not mourning. It could have been worse, but most of Simon’s men gave themselves up when they saw him flee.”

Louis’ face went very still. “Simon escaped?”

“No, no.” Harry caressed Louis’ cheek. “I killed him.”

Louis gasped. “What?”

“I killed Simon. He’s dead.” Harry heard the quaver in his own voice.

Louis stared at him, wide-eyed. “Oh, _Harry._ ” He reached for Harry’s hand, gave it a weak squeeze. “I’m so sorry you had to do that.”

Harry was overcome with a rush of love so strong he didn’t know what to do with himself. Louis was in pain and Simon had _tortured_ him, and still his first response was to make sure Harry was all right because he knew Harry had never killed anyone.

Harry shook his head, the pillow rustling beneath him. “I’m _not_ sorry. He can’t hurt you or anyone else again.”

Louis pet his hand.

“I just wish I could have done it before he hurt you.” Harry’s throat threatened to close. “I’m so sorry, Lou. I should never have left you. _I’m so sorry._ ”

“Don’t, Harry. It’s not your fault.”

Harry buried his face against the side of Louis’ neck. “Please don’t ever leave me. _Please._ I was so scared I was going to lose you. I love you so much, Lou.”

Louis put his arm around Harry’s waist, fingers digging into his back. Harry’s eyes welled up when he heard the unmistakeable sound of pain at the motion. “I love you too, Harry.” Louis kissed the top of Harry’s head. “And I’m all yours if you... want me.”

“Of course I want you,” Harry began, confused, but he was interrupted by a knock on the door. The two look-alike sisters came in with a stack of fresh bandages, and a basin of water.

“Good morning.”

Harry sat up. “Should I-?” He scrambled off the bed when Eleanor nodded.

“It may be best for you to wait outside,” Danielle said, setting the bowl down on the bedside table and reaching for a pair of scissors and a surgical knife from a pocket in her habit.

Harry would have argued but Louis spoke up.

“Yes. Go and have breakfast or something, Harry. You must be starving.”

Harry frowned. “I can just wait and eat with you.”

“No. Don’t. Just, go.” Louis’ voice sounded odd. “Please.”

Harry ducked his head and grabbed his shirt and breeches.

“Um, I’ll come back later?” Harry stood at the door, feeling a little put-off.

Eleanor opened the door and pushed him out. “Come back after lunch,” she said, and left him standing alone in the corridor.

Harry thought he’d go and find Gemma- he was anxious to see her- but he bumped into Niall as he limped down the hall.

“I told you to rest! What are yeh doing traipsin’ around?” Niall locked arms with him, turning him around.

“Where are we going?” Harry asked.

“To see Zayn. He’s feeling left-out. Have you eaten?”

*

Harry divided his time between being with Louis and helping out with everything that had to be done following a dethronement, which turned out to be more than he would have expected, if he had ever given it any thought before.

A constant traffic of messengers to and from the capital was established to coordinate with Nick, who had been appointed acting steward- which meant a guard had to be organized for the couriers. Patrols had to be sent out as well, when some of Simon’s men who had escaped took to vandalizing neighboring towns.

Through it all, Gemma seemed tireless, talking to advisors and merchants and guild leaders and soldiers and peasants... Harry was at her side for much of the time, but eventually he would long for his books and his poetry.

And to him the most important letter had been the one bringing word that Anne was sailing back to the country. With Gemma unavailable for anything but official business, Harry missed his mum more than ever- he was feeling a little lost when it came to Louis.

Louis was doing much better: although Harry saw him wince whenever he tried to raise his arms, he could walk around, and he’d been needing less sleep with each passing day. But every morning and afternoon he’d get agitated and beg for Harry to go when the sisters arrived to change his dressings. Harry didn’t understand it.

Louis had been especially short with him that morning, and Eleanor had practically shoved him out of the room. Harry wasn’t sure if he should give Louis some space, or what he could do to make him feel better.

That afternoon Harry hid out instead of going to a meeting with Gemma, too preoccupied to keep his head focused on poll taxes.

Lord Corden kept a modest collection of books mixed in with castle records in a small room up in a tower and Harry had expected to find it empty; instead he found Zayn. They both stared at each other in surprise.

“Haven’t even been crowned and you’re already skiving off?” Zayn smirked.

Harry made a face. “Gemma’s taking care of it.”

Zayn made a noncommittal noise.

“What about you?” Harry asked, sitting next to him on the floor.

Zayn lifted the book on his lap.

Harry peered at it curiously. “A history of crops?” he asked, skeptically.

Zayn shrugged. “Niall and Liam are busy.”

“I thought you’d be with Louis.”

Zayn ducked his head. “Yeah, well.”

“Did you two have a fight?” Louis hadn’t mentioned anything, then again, Louis had been talking while saying nothing for the past week.

“I haven’t actually... been to see him,” Zayn muttered.

“What? Why?” Harry exclaimed.

Zayn rubbed the corner of a page between his finger and thumb. “You know how Louis is really... selfless?” He glanced at Harry. “I’m... _not_. I don’t feel bad about it- it just means I can watch out for when he forgets to think of himself, yeah? I’ve always made sure he took care of himself too.”

Zayn’s voice shook. “But I didn’t realize he was going out alone to drive out those scouting parties. And he burnt himself out with my trick with the dragons... so it’s no wonder he couldn’t escape Wootton.” He buried his face against his knees. “I was supposed to protect him and I failed him so badly.”

Harry sighed. “Zayn. It’s not your fault.”

Zayn snorted.

“It isn’t,” Harry insisted. “But that doesn’t matter, because Louis needs you now, and you’re here hiding. This is you protecting yourself because you feel ashamed- and it’s not helpful to him.”

Zayn wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “I’m being selfish as heck, aren’t I? Not in a good way.”

Harry nodded.

“You’re kind of mean when it comes to watching out for Louis,” Zayn said, looking at him thoughtfully.

“I love him,” Harry said simply.

“I reckon you do.” Zayn gripped his forearm and they shook hands before he stood up. “Thanks, Harry.”

*

Harry was glad to see that Louis’ mood improved after talking to Zayn. He’d also received a letter from his own mother and that seemed to have eased his mind as well.

Harry himself was awaiting Anne’s imminent arrival. He missed her and couldn’t wait for her to meet Louis. Whenever he mentioned this to Louis, however, he looked anxious and changed the subject. Harry had been trying to get him to meet Gemma as well, but he kept insisting that he not bother her when she was so busy.

“He’s nervous is all,” Liam said when Harry told him about it.

“It’s just my sister and my mum.”

“The most important people in your life.” Liam chewed his bread thoughtfully. “And I think he’s a little nervous about being here too.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean among all these humans, you know? Niall and Zayn have had the chance to meet people, even if Zayn’s a little shy. But Louis’s been sick and cooped up in that room.”

Harry frowned. He’d never thought of that.  “Has he talked to you about it?” he asked.

Liam shook his head. “Not really. It’s just... when we were in the faerie kingdom I felt kind of the odd one out, being human. And I just thought he might be feeling the same. Especially since his experience with humans recently hasn’t been... all that good.”

Harry stared at him, brow furrowed. Harry had felt so at home at the faerie kingdom he’d never considered that Louis might not feel the same in the human world. Or that he might even be scared or anxious around humans after what had happened to him.

“Shit,” Harry breathed, knocking his forehead against the table. “I’m such an idiot.”

Liam lifted Harry’s hair out of the bowl and rubbed the back of his neck soothingly. “You’re not. You have a lot on your plate right now. Literally and figuratively.”

He giggled when Harry raised his head to squint at him.

“C’mon, eat your vegetables or I’ll tell your mum.”

*

After his conversation with Liam, Harry went to find Niall. After a fortnight, now that the first flowers of spring were making their appearance, Harry wondered if he might take Louis outside for a picnic. He knew the sisters wouldn’t tell him anything, and Sophia had disappeared, but Niall was a healer, and he’d been involved with Louis’ treatment.

“Definitely a good idea.” Niall said decisively. “Gotta get him out and about. We’re woodland faeries, not city folk.”

“There’s some trees in the courtyard you can commune with, Niall. If you feel you need it.”

Niall laughed hard. “I’ll keep it in mind, thanks.”

Harry doubled over with giggles.

Niall grinned and pulled him into a hug. “Love ya, mate.”

*

Louis was nervous, Harry could tell. His eyes just a little too wide as they walked down the hall. His fingers cold in Harry’s hand. He flinched when a servant came out of a room unexpectedly.

“No one’s going to hurt you,” Harry said gently.

Louis’s forehead creased. “I know that, Harry. Startled me is all.”

Harry had set up a blanket and cushions on a patch of green next to a tinkling fountain in the courtyard for the two of them. When he stepped outside, Louis inhaled deeply and leaned for a long moment against the bark of the tree, eyes closed. Harry felt like a fool for laughing about communing with the trees.

One they sat down, however, Louis calmed down, and Harry saw the crinkles around his eyes when he smiled for the first time in too long.

Harry felt his heart soar when he made Louis laugh telling him about James pretending to be a pirate, and how him and Reggie sometimes started singing in the middle of a meeting if they thought everyone was getting bored.

“I think you’d get along really well with James. He’s dying to meet you,” Harry said carefully.

Louis sipped at his willow bark tea, which Harry had packed at Niall’s instruction. “Yeah, I should meet him, shouldn’t I?” He grinned. “Taken over a room in his castle for a fortnight and I haven’t even said hello.”

“No manners at all, Lou. Your mum raised you better than that.”

Louis giggled, then went serious. “And, I- I do want to... meet your sister, Harry. And your mum. She must be quite a woman, raising you and Gemma. On her own and in exile, no less.”

Harry smiled wide. “Gemma has a meeting after lunch. Actually, I was supposed to go to that meeting too.” Harry shrugged the thought off. “But once that’s over-”

He faltered, realizing he was getting ahead of himself. “But, um, maybe some other day would be best.”

Louis’ face went soft and he leaned over to kiss Harry, balancing himself with a hand on Harry’s hip.

“You’re wonderful, you know that?”

*

Anne arrived two days later. When a servant came to tell Harry and Gemma, they both ran half the length of the castle to greet her. The three of them embraced for a long time, and when they pulled back all three of them were crying.

“Very dignified,” Gemma joked, wiping her eyes with her sleeve.

“You’re my babies before you’re royalty.” Anne kissed them both. “Now tell me everything.”

Gemma did most of the talking while Harry cuddled next to Anne. Harry was grateful when Gemma didn’t mention Louis. He wanted to tell his mum about that himself.

Once she had heard the general story Gemma and Harry insisted that Anne go rest from her voyage. After making sure his mum was settled and comfortable in her quarters, Harry went directly to Louis’ room.

Louis was lying on his front on the bed, head pillowed in his arms with his face turned away from the door. He was bare from the waist up and Harry got his first look at his back since that first night. There was a lot of scarring, a purplish red and raised mass, amid the fading mottled bruising. Eleanor was warming some ointment in her hands while Danielle stood with a roll of gauze in her arms; she looked up when the door opened and gasped.

Louis turned his head and his face drained of color when he saw Harry.

“Get out,” Louis moaned, nearly kicking Eleanor as he scrambled to turn his back away from Harry. “Get out!”

Harry turned around and closed the door behind him, breathing fast.

He knuckled his eyes. He wasn’t sure how long it was before Eleanor and Danielle came out of the room.

“You should learn to knock,” Eleanor said testily.

Danielle gave him a sympathetic look. “He doesn’t want to see you right now.”

“I need to talk to him.”

Eleanor crossed her arms over her chest. “Are we going to have to stand here all afternoon? Please go.”

“No, no. I’ll go.” Harry felt sick to his stomach as he went back to his room, dragging his feet. He sat on the edge of his bed, head in his hands, struggling not to cry.

Was this the reason Louis had insisted Harry leave the room when they changed his dressings? Harry hated the thought of Louis feeling ashamed and upset when he couldn’t be more beautiful to Harry.

He sat in misery for a long while, the room growing dark around him.

With an abrupt movement he got to his feet and fetched the blue stone ring he’d wrenched off Wootton’s finger. He’d had it set in silver instead of the old copper wiring- taking advantage of his station and wealth had felt odd, but it was just this one time, and it was for Louis. He’d been hesitant to give it back to Louis because of the fear that it might bring back bad memories of his abduction, but he decided at that moment to do it.

  
Harry knocked on the door before opening it just enough to call out, “Louis, it’s me. Can we talk, please?”

There was a very faint assent.

Louis was sitting up in bed, a cup cradled in his hands on his lap. Harry sat on the edge of the bed when Louis nodded in response to Harry asking for permission.

Harry was surprised to recognize the liquid in the cup as poppy tea; he hadn’t been aware that Louis still needed it.

“Some nights it hurts worse than others,” Louis explained when he noticed what Harry was looking at.

“Lou.” Harry wrung his hands nervously. He didn’t even know where to begin even though he’d been going over and over what he wanted to tell Louis for the last few hours. It was an endless cycle of ‘I love you. You’re beautiful. I’m sorry’.

“What’s that you’ve got there?” Louis asked, voice raspy.

Harry held out his palm, like he’d done in the forest.

Louis’ brow creased. “You got it back?”

“I broke his finger pulling it off.” Harry’s voice went deep with a flare of old anger. “Wanted to break every bone in his body.”

Louis took a long sip from the cup, without taking his eyes off Harry.

Harry reached for Louis’ hand, his own shaking. “Can I?”

Louis stared at him. “Do you still-” Louis choked up. “How can you still... want me?”

Harry felt like he’d been punched in the gut. “What?”

Louis turned his face to a side, head lowered. “They brought me a mirror- I’m hideous. And you- you thought my wings were beautiful and now they’re _gone_.” His voice broke.

“Your wings were beautiful because they were a part of you, and you’re so beautiful, Lou. I’m so sorry they took that away from you. I’m so, _so_ sorry, Louis. But there’s nothing that could make me stop loving you... I want to be with you forever.”

Louis sobbed quietly, the back of his hand hiding his face. “I want that too. I love you.”

Harry slipped the ring onto his finger with trembling hands.

“C’mere,” Louis hiccuped.

Harry cupped his face, and Louis tugged on the end of his hair to bring him into a kiss.

Once the tears had been wiped from both their faces, they held each other close, and Harry fell asleep to Louis’ soft breathing.

*

Another fortnight went past. With Gemma pressuring Harry more and more about traveling to the capital for the coronation while Harry stalled with the excuse that Louis wasn’t fit to travel.

Harry helped out as much as he could, but he let Gemma take the lead, and he skipped more than one  meeting in favor of a walk around the grounds with Louis, or to practice the lute Louis had given to him as a gift with Niall, or to train with Liam, or just to sit and read with Zayn.

One afternoon, Harry sat in his room, composing a song. Louis had to do some exercises to strengthen and stretch his back muscles, Niall had explained, and though Louis had grown more comfortable with Harry, he still didn’t want him in the room for that. Harry had to admit that standing to a side watching Louis struggling and in pain while he couldn’t do anything wouldn’t be easy for him either.

Harry still felt like he was floundering at times, when it came to Louis, but Anne had been a great comfort and support to him. Even if she didn’t have all the answers, just sitting and talking to her was enough.

There was a knock on the door, and his mother peered inside. “Hey, baby. Can we talk?”

“Mum.” Harry put down his lute to embrace his mother.

“Let’s get comfortable,” she said, and Harry lay down with his head on her lap, hugging her legs. He closed his eyes, feeling quite at peace with the soft breeze coming in through the window.

“Harry. You know all I’ve ever wanted was for you and Gemma to be safe and happy. Everything else- wealth, position- is secondary.”

Harry kissed her hand. “I know, mum.”

“I can’t help but feel that this isn’t making you happy.”

“What isn’t?”

“Being king.”

“I’m not king yet.”

“I know. Because you’ve been making excuses to delay being crowned.” Anne smoothed the hair from his forehead and Harry stretched his neck to peer up at her.

“I wasn’t... ‘s just Louis-”

“Harry.” Anne gave him a knowing look.

Harry pulled at his bottom lip. “I think Gemma should take the throne.” He sat up, looking at his mum imploringly. “She’s much better at it than I am. Everyone loves her and she’ll be the best queen ever- aside from you, mum.”

Anne chuckled at his last comment. “You would have been a wonderful king, Harry. But if you were going to be a miserable one, I’d rather you go off into the forest with your Louis.”

Harry blushed, ducking his head. “Gemma won’t be mad, will she?”

Anne kissed his forehead, thumbing his cheek. “No, baby. We’ve talked, Gemma and I. She did say to tell you you’re not getting out of being an official emissary to the faerie kingdom, and that you’re expected on certain celebrations as prince of the realm.”

Harry grinned and hugged his mum tightly, feeling like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “Thanks, mum.”

*

Harry made sure to spend as much time as he could with his mum and sister over the course of the following week, and help them to prepare their trip to the capital.

He was afraid he’d been neglecting Louis somewhat, even though he knew Zayn, Liam and Niall were keeping him company. He had meant to cut an early blooming rose from the garden to take to him when he bumped into Niall, balancing a ceramic pitcher and a stack of large square pads under his arm.

“Harry, how’s it going, mate? Going to see Louis?” Niall greeted him.

“‘m fine. Yeah? D’you need any help?”

Niall gave a slight shrug. “If you want to grab the padding, it keeps slipping.”

Harry hurried to grab them. “Where are we headed?” he asked, tripping on a floor tile.

“Oh, erm, this is for Louis,” Niall replied, looking uncomfortable all of a sudden. “Some willow bark tea...” he babbled, looking at Harry’s furrowed brow askance.

“Why?”

Niall tittered nervously and increased his pace.

“Niall!” Harry protested, catching up with him.

“‘s just Louis being Louis.”

“That can mean a lot of things,” Harry said, chuckling.

Niall laughed. “Yeah, but it usually means he’s being an idiot, no matter how ya spin it.”

He made a face, glancing at Harry out of the corner of his eye. “Best have Liam explain, yeah? I’m just here in my official capacity as a healer.”

Harry frowned: Louis had been recovering well and he didn’t understand.

Niall knocked on the door with his foot and kicked it open. “Hello, hello.”

“Save me, Niall. Liam’s trying to kill me.”

“I didn’t drop you on purpose! You hit me in the balls- it was instinct.”

Harry followed Niall into the room. Liam was standing by the bed, Louis sitting on it bent over, clutching at Liam’s arm for support.

“Hey,” Harry said.

Louis’ head whipped up in surprise. “Harry. Shit.”

Harry huffed in laughter. “Happy to see you too?”

Louis let go of Liam and stretched his arm out to Harry. “Give me a hand, love?”

Harry rushed to take his hand as Liam stepped back. “What happened, Lou?”

Niall poured some of the tea from the pitcher into a cup and gave it to Harry. Harry handed it to Louis, who leaned against Harry chest as he drank, holding onto the hem of Harry’s shirt with one hand.

Harry turned toward Liam questioningly when Louis didn’t answer.

“Louis somehow charmed someone into helping him get on a horse and went for a bit of a ride. I happened to be at the stables when he came back, just in time to have him fall into my arms like a damsel in distress- although he was cursing like a sailor,” Liam explained, shaking his head.

“You went horse riding?” Harry asked, aghast.

“Just testing it out,” Louis muttered.

“It’s been a month. You’re an idiot,” Niall put in.

“Thanks, Niall.” Louis glared at him.

“‘s lucky you didn’t fall off the horse,” Liam added.

“Yes, it was. Now if you’ll both kindly get the hell out and let me rest, that’d be fantastic,” Louis snapped, handing Harry the empty cup for him to put on the table.

Niall and Liam exchanged a glance with Harry, then shrugged.

“Put a pillow under his knees and the padding under his back,” Niall instructed before he left.

Louis lifted his legs onto the bed, grunting. Harry put the pads under his back carefully and grabbed his pillow for under his legs.

Louis squinted up at him. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Harry asked, dragging the chair closer to the bed and sitting down.

Louis held out his hand, palm up, for Harry to hold. “All frowny and worried. I’m fine, just overdid it a bit.”

Harry tried to smooth out his frown but he could still feel the tension in his brow. “You had to know it wasn’t a good idea. Why did you do it?”

Louis sighed exaggeratedly. “It’s just... I want to go home. I miss me mum and me sisters.”

Harry rubbed the palm of Louis’ hand with his thumb. Louis had read him some of the letters he had got from his sisters and his mum, and he knew how close they were.

“It won’t be too long before you can go back, Lou. I’m sorry you’re homesick.” Harry combed Louis’ soft fringe with his fingers.

Louis’ eyelashes fluttered. “I know, but I- I don’t want to stay here on my own.”

Harry frowned. “What d'you mean?”

Louis shot him a look. “Well, you’re leaving tomorrow, aren’t you?” His voice quavering.

“No.” Harry shook his head, bewildered. “No, I’m not. Louis! Did you think I was just going to leave you here?”

Louis struggled to raise himself up on an elbow to look at Harry. “You can’t miss your own coronation, Harold.”

Harry leaned his elbows on his knees. “First of all. If I were going, it would be with you- if we had to take three times the time to get there, dealing with a carriage on the road. Second, if I _had_ to go, I’d tell you beforehand. And third... Lou, I said I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. I’m not leaving.”

Louis licked his lips, staring at Harry. He lay flat again. “Right,” he said finally. “Thank you.”

Harry couldn’t help but smile.

“But, I don’t understand, the coronation?” Louis asked.

“I’m not going to be crowned. Gemma’s going to be queen.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me this?” Louis pinched Harry’s hand.

Harry bit his lip. “I’m sorry- I’ve been so busy! I forgot.”

Louis rolled his eyes. “Useless.”

“Hey,” Harry whined jokingly.

Louis walked his fingers on the back of Harry’s hand for a minute, his eyes closed. Then he turned to Harry with a serious expression on his face.

“Are you sure, Harry? I told you once, and I still think so: you’d be a good king- a very good king.”

Harry smiled. “Thank you. I am, though. Sure. I don’t want to be king. It kind of... it felt like a burden when it should have been- well, an honor. I’ll be happy as Prince Harry, yeah.”

Louis squeezed his hand, then took a deep breath. “And would you be happy as consort?”

It took Harry a moment to understand but when he did he felt himself grinning so widely his cheeks hurt. He nodded over and over. “Yes, yes. So happy.”

He bent down to kiss Louis, both of them giggling because they couldn’t stop smiling enough to kiss properly.


	7. Chapter 7

PART VI

 

Louis had missed the woods more than he had ever imagined he would; he even felt like he could breathe easier, now that he was almost home. It had been three months since he had seen his mother and sisters, and letters couldn’t make up for the fact that he really needed a hug from his mother.

The problem was he had yet to tell her about what had happened to him. He’d sent word that he’d been hurt and needed to recover before he could travel, and then he’d made excuses about staying to expand relations with their neighbor Lord Corden and the future monarch- which had enough truth in it that his mother had let it slide, though she must have suspected he wasn’t telling her everything. She had always been able to tell.

But now she was going to _see_. Louis was dreading how his family was going to react to his... mutilation- let alone everyone else. Sometimes he wondered if he was even a proper faerie anymore, and he had to keep reminding himself that he still had his magic, and his ears and, really, his wings didn’t define him. But it was hard sometimes.  
  
“Mind if I join you?” Zayn followed him away from camp. “Harry and Niall are being idiotic.”

Louis laughed. “Missing Liam?”

“He said he’d be back soon. And that he’d take me to meet his parents. I get that he needs to be doing something.” Zayn shrugged. “But how are you?”

Louis raised his eyebrows. “’m fine. It’s good to be back.”

Zayn gave him an unimpressed look.

Louis rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’m shitting myself.”

Zayn bit his nails, looking at Louis thoughtfully. “I could…” He fluttered his wings and wagged his fingers. “Until you feel strong enough to tell your mum.”

Louis hesitated. The idea of being whole again was so tempting... but it was an illusion. He wouldn’t feel the weight of his wings or the movement of the air when they moved. He wouldn’t be able to touch them, and he would never fly again. His wings were gone for good and he had to accept that.

He shook his head, sighing. “No. It is what it is…”

Zayn went up to him and grabbed at his waist to get Louis to look him in the face. “You know it’s not going to change anything. Not like… everyone will still love you, and respect you. And they’re going to keep thinking you’re an idiot too.”

Louis let himself be cradled in Zayn’s arms. “Thanks,” he said against his chest, half-ironic, half-sincere.

Zayn held him, swaying in place, until Niall shouted at them that lunch was ready.

*

Louis had thrown his cloak on his back to enter the palace, feeling extremely self-conscious. Niall and Zayn had both tucked their wings away as well, though Louis had insisted they didn’t have to. He hadn’t wanted to make an entrance so he told the guard to warn his mother of his arrival so that he could greet her without company.

Jay was standing by the window waiting for him. Louis hesitated in the doorway, still wearing his cloak despite it being too warm for it. His palms were sweating and his heart was racing in his chest.

“Mum,” he croaked.

Jay turned to him, her smile faltering at his expression. She rushed to him and Louis flinched when she opened her arms to embrace him.

“Louis? Baby?” She took his hands in hers. “Your hands are clammy.” She squeezed his fingers, looking at him with eyes full of concern.

Louis struggled to swallow, coughed to clear his throat. He unclasped the cloak and turned his back, letting it fall to the floor. He heard his mother’s gasp. “Oh, Louis, my baby.”

She turned him around, gently, and hugged him tightly. Louis cried into her shoulder, his whole body shaking with violent sobs. It felt like all the pain he’d been bottling up in the last few months was being squeezed out of him by his mother’s arms.

Jay walked them back onto the couch, and held him as he cried. He didn’t tell her everything- not how _scared_ he had been or how much it had _hurt_. But he could tell by the look in her eyes that she understood.

Exhausted, drained, he curled up next to his mother, still feeling the lump in his throat while she rubbed his back, whispering how much she loved him until he fell asleep.

*

Louis took a deep breath, fixing his hair in front of the mirror while simultaneously trying not to look at himself- at what was missing. This would be the first time he would be appearing at court since he had returned and he was so nervous he felt nauseous.

Word had spread, of course, it was inevitable. But for the last week and a half he’d been hiding out for the most part, spending his time with his family. His sisters had all been very supportive and affectionate. Although it had hurt when the babies had recoiled at the sight of him and had to be coaxed into letting him hold them. Fizzy had insisted it was because they hadn’t seen him in three months and that was a long time for a baby. Fortunately, it was easier to believe her when, past that first reaction, they seemed perfectly comfortable around him.

“Ready, love?” Harry came into the room, doing the last buttons on his vest.

Louis smiled at him in the reflection. “You look a proper prince, this time around.”

“I was a prince in disguise.” Harry grinned, going up to him and holding him from behind, arms around his middle. Louis tilted his head for a kiss, leaning back into the embrace. Harry pecked him on the cheek and trailed soft, dry kisses over his jaw and down his neck.

Louis shivered. Harry and him hadn’t done more than kiss since that night before they left the faerie kingdom.

“Harold, I don’t fancy standing in front of everyone with a hard-on.”

Harry honked with laughter and released him after a last squeeze. “It would be a conversation starter.”

“I think there’s enough for everyone to gossip about already,” Louis said wryly.

His wingless state. News of the defeat of Simon and a new monarch, whose brother was staying with them in an unknown capacity for an undetermined period of time.

Harry placed Louis’ crown on his head carefully and kissed the tip of his nose before they left for the welcoming feast.

Louis’ voice had shaken as he spoke his greeting and gave a brief account of events. He welcomed Harry as brother to the new monarch and esteemed personal guest and faerie friend. He'd avoided looking at anyone and edged back to his seat without quite turning his back on the crowd, though he felt ridiculous once he sat down.

Having Harry at his side during the feast calmed his nerves, and he had his mum sitting two seats away with the children if he needed a bit more support. He was fine until Harry disappeared without a word.

Louis rose half out of his seat to look around, his breathing speeding up when he couldn’t find him.

Zayn pulled him back down and squeezed his shoulder. “Calm down. He’ll be back in a minute.”

Niall reached over and shoved a glass of wine in his face. “You’re going to love the surprise. It’s so sweet.”

Louis choked on the wine. “What surprise?”

Zayn huffed with exasperation and Niall laughed. “Sorry.”

Louis looked from one to the other. “What surprise? Zayn-”

A call for attention from the faerie in charge of announcing the different performances interrupted him. Louis stared as she introduced Harry, singing a song of his own composition, in honor and praise of the king of the woodland realm.

Harry walked up the dais and sat down on a stool with his lute. He cleared his throat and searched the crowd until he met Louis’ eyes.

Louis’ heart was beating so fast he felt like his whole body was quivering.

Harry kept his eyes on him the whole song. And the song was so beautiful, so full of love, and Harry sang it with such feeling that when he finished, Louis felt like he’d forgotten to breathe for the last few minutes, he was so startled when Zayn squeezed his hand, smirking. Niall laughed at him too, but Louis was so stunned he couldn’t even bring himself to tell him off.

Harry came back to the table as another musician started playing amid murmuring. Louis could feel eyes on the both of them, but he could only focus on Harry, smiling shyly at him as he approached.

“Not a very conventional panegyric,” Zayn drawled as Harry sat down. “Never known one to go on so much about the king’s eyes.”

Niall added, grinning, “Or the freckles on his cheeks.”

Harry shrugged. “It wasn’t supposed to be.”

“It was amazing, Harry.” Louis leaned in to hug him, hiding his face against Harry’s neck, breathing in the scent of his hair. “Thank you.”

Louis remained a little dazed through the night, feeling overheated and punch-drunk even though he hadn’t been drinking that much.

It was late when they left the feast, walking under the starlight back to their room, Harry’s arm draped over his shoulder and Louis’ tight around Harry’s waist.  
Harry sang softly while Louis had an internal battle with himself. The warmth of arousal spreading through his body struggling against the fact that having sex with Harry might mean baring his scars. Although they had been sleeping in the same bed for months, Louis had undressed behind a screen and worn a shirt every night.

He _wanted_ Harry, though. Very much.

Once inside the room, Louis pressed Harry against the closed door and latched onto his neck with his mouth, slipping a hand under Harry’s shirt to touch his skin.  
Harry groaned when Louis cupped his cock over his trousers and gave it a squeeze as he kissed down his chest in the opening of his shirt neckline.

Louis sank to his knees, fumbling at the buttons then dragging Harry’s trousers down to his knees. He nipped and sucked on the vee of his hips, then rubbed his cheek against his thigh while he pumped Harry’s cock with his hand a few times. Louis tongued at the base of his cock between his fingers before dragging the flat of his tongue up the shaft to take the head into his mouth.

Harry moaned loudly and jerkily reached to cup the back of Louis’ head, thumb smoothing over the tip of his ear, ticklish, as Louis sucked him.

“Wait, Louis. I don’t want to come yet,” Harry panted, squeezing the back of his neck. “Let’s get to bed, yeah?”

Louis looked up, giving little licks to the wet head of Harry’s cock while twisting his hand at the base. Harry gave a full body shudder, then tugged on Louis to get him to his feet, and walked them backwards toward the bed after kicking off his trousers.

Louis pulled at Harry’s shirt and helped him out of it, reaching out to stroke Harry’s chest and the rippling muscles of his abdomen. His fingers brushed over the long scar crossing his side, abruptly reminding him of his own.

Harry curled his fingers in the lower hem of Louis’ shirt, but made no move to take it off him. Louis tilted his head to bring their mouths together again before stepping away from Harry to undress himself.

Harry sat on the bed and pulled him in between his legs once Louis was naked. Harry smoothed his hands up Louis’ thighs, grabbing at his arse and suckling kisses onto his stomach, his chest, moaning in the back of his throat, as Louis’ breath hitched, his cock filling rapidly.

“Can’t get enough of you, Lou,” Harry said as he leaned back on the bed on his elbows, looking up at Louis.

Louis climbed on top of Harry, straddling his waist, and leaned down to kiss him. Louis’ cock brushed against Harry’s stomach and he could feel the wet head of Harry’s cock rubbing between his legs.

Harry’s hands wandered from Louis’ waist up his back, and Louis froze when he felt his fingers touch the edge of a scar.

Harry lowered his hand to grip his hips when Louis sat up, breathing hard.

“Louis. We don’t- we don't have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, but- but you have to know that every single bit of you is beautiful to me.”

Louis bit his lip as Harry rubbed circles with his thumbs on his hips.

“You haven’t seen them properly. It looks awful. I’m-” Louis whispered.

Harry shook his head frantically. “You’re beautiful,” he interrupted. “All of you. Nothing can change that.”

Louis ran a hand over Harry’s chest, thumbing at his nipple, head bowed. “You haven’t seen them properly,” he repeated quietly.

“Then let me see.”

Louis wavered, then rolled off Harry. He waited for Harry to sit up before he turned around, sitting cross legged. His whole body was covered in goosebumps and his erection had flagged. He felt like throwing up as he heard Harry move behind him, felt his hands hovering over Louis’ back.

Then he felt Harry’s lips at the top of his spine.

“You’re beautiful.” Harry kissed right over where the scarring began and moved down. The sensitivity over the scar tissue was deadened, but Louis felt the slight pressure.

Meanwhile, Harry stroked his waist, sliding to pet his lower stomach, dipping into the crease of his thigh. It felt like he pressed his lips to every inch of Louis’ upper back and across his shoulders, murmuring praise and reassurance between kisses.

“Get on your knees?” Harry asked hoarsely.

Trembling, hypersensitized, Louis raised himself onto his hands and knees.

Harry groaned low in his throat and the sound made Louis’ cock twitch between his legs. Harry kissed the dimples at the bottom of Louis’ back before spreading his cheeks, thumbs rubbing against his hole. Louis rested on his elbows and buried his face in the crook of his arm, whimpering, when Harry licked around the rim and then started lapping at his hole.

“Harry, fuck,” Louis gasped.

Harry kept moaning as he worked Louis open with his tongue, then pushed in a finger, slick with saliva while he teased at the rim with his tongue.

Louis was lightheaded, his cock straining between his legs. “In the drawer,” he panted, pointing without lifting his head.

He felt the bed shift as Harry moved to get it. The faint fragrance from the oil reached Louis a moment before he felt it drip cool and wet over his hole, trickling down his perineum.

“Want you so much,” Harry said as he stretched Louis open, each twisting thrust of his fingers punching a shuddering breath out of Louis.

“That’s enough, Harry. Please.”

When Harry pulled out his fingers, breathing hard, Louis rolled onto his back. Harry pushed Louis’ knees toward his chest, hands under his knees, and stooped to lick into his mouth before he reached down with one hand to guide his cock inside Louis, sliding in slowly.

“Fuck, you feel so good, Louis,” Harry moaned as he bottomed out.

Louis clutched at Harry’s forearms, digging his fingers right over the bend of his elbow, as Harry thrust into him, slow and deep, barely pulling out, rocking his hips with his eyes fixed on Louis’ face.

Louis gasped with each roll of Harry’s hips. He felt so full and stretched open and the constant rubbing of his cock against Harry’s stomach had him leaking over the both of them.

“So close, Harry.”

Louis squeezed his eyes shut as his cock spurted over his belly and chest, his hole clenching tight around Harry’s thick cock.

Their mouths moved together, uncoordinated, both of them panting, while Harry fucked into him, once, twice, then stilled, coming deep inside Louis.

Louis still felt a little wet even after Harry had cleaned him up with a flannel, but it didn’t bother him as he stretched out in the middle of the bed in a languid movement.

He looked up as Harry returned from the garderobe. He felt a faint pulse of desire at the sight of him: Harry's hair was a mess over his broad shoulders and the skin at the top of one thigh was reddish where Louis had rubbed his stubbled cheek and chin.

Louis caught Harry licking his lips as his gaze trailed down Louis’ body then back to his face. Harry’s face flushed when their eyes met; he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth before bursting into a half-embarrassed squawk of laughter.

Harry grinned at him as he got back into bed. “I told you I can’t get enough of you.”

“‘Course you can’t. I’ve got you under a spell, haven’t I?” Louis teased, chucking him under the chin.

Harry giggled, then smiled at him, open and earnest. “You have.”

His face burning and his heart full to bursting, Louis pulled Harry into a kiss.

*

Louis’ pulse shot up when he saw the first soldiers ride through the gates, and he threw out his hand for Harry to hold without thinking.

He glanced over when Harry squeezed his hand, but Harry only smiled at him encouragingly and laced their fingers together without comment.

After he had settled back into routine at home, Louis had suffered weeks of sleepless nights and crying spells he couldn’t quite explain. But those were past for the most part, and the times he shied away from Harry in bed were farther and farther apart. Which was why he hadn’t expected his reaction to the soldiers, almost a full year since his return.

Nonetheless, he felt himself relax after a few deep breaths when he recognized Anne and Gemma, and the visit went smoothly after that.

It was a time for celebration in honor of their guests, with music and exchanges of gifts, and mainly a lot of family time. Anne and Jay bonded immediately and the two queens were seen frequently together.

Lottie and Gemma also became quick friends, so much so that Lottie soon declared her intention to leave with Gemma on a visit to the human court.

Louis had stiffened when she brought it up, fear at something happening to his little sister washing over him.

“She’ll be safe, I promise,” Gemma had said, reaching over to pat his wrist. “And pampered. A faerie princess? She’ll have the court at her feet, believe me.”

Harry had put his hand on Louis’ thigh in a gesture of reassurance, and Louis had relaxed enough to tease his sister, making her stick her tongue out at him. “That’s what I’m worried about. You’ll spoil her rotten.”

In the end Jay had given her blessing to the trip, as had Louis, though the month seemed to fly past even faster once he knew Lottie would be leaving with the entourage.

  
“I can see why you like it here,” Gemma told Harry, sighing wistfully, on their last night at the palace. “No wonder you gave up the crown so readily,” she joked.

“Oh, he’s not getting off so easily,” Louis said, winking at Gemma and beaming at Harry, who preened.

“We’re officially betrothed,” Harry announced with a wide smile.

“Official, is it?” Anne teased, as though Harry hadn’t written her a letter the morning after the engagement party, going on and on about the song Louis had written and sung for him.

“Caught everyone by surprise, I imagine,” Gemma said sarcastically.

“Of course. You know how subtle they are,” Lottie said, rolling her eyes.

Jay reached over to give Louis a squeeze. “Leave the boys be. When you find your true love you can talk.”

Lottie scoffed.

“I’m happy we’re all going to be family,” Anne said, smiling.

“Officially,” Jay added, and they all laughed.

*

Harry and Louis accompanied the royal company out of the forest to the main road, with a small guard, stopping for a picnic before saying the final farewell.  
The dust from the road settled and the royal company out of sight, the two of them remained behind with their small guard, taking advantage of the weather to linger in the fresh spring grass at the fringes of the forest.  
  
Louis glanced at Harry, who was lying on his back, looking up clouds, the flowers Louis had weaved into his hair scattered over his curls spread out on the grass.

Louis still couldn’t believe his luck. He rubbed Harry’s belly with the palm of his hand, leaning over him to look into his face.

Harry smiled at him. “I was wondering where the sun had gone,” he said, eyes roving over Louis’ face.

Louis leaned down to kiss him. “Do you know how much I love you?”

Harry entwined their fingers together, hand resting on his stomach. “How much?” he asked, grinning.

Louis studied his face: the slant of his eyebrows, the curve of his cheek, the indentations at the corners of his mouth. “More than anything,” Louis whispered.

As they kissed again, Louis felt a strange breeze ruffling his hair.

“Did you feel that?” Harry asked when they broke apart.

Louis nodded, looking around curiously.

“Look!” Harry jumped up, pointing at a circle of mushrooms around them- bright white, almost glowing. “That wasn’t there before.”

Louis poked at a mushroom, bewildered.

“Did you just magic a fairy ring?” Harry asked him, eyes shining.

Louis stood up from his crouch and gaped at him. “I don’t know.”

He remembered his mum telling him faeries only get to make one fairy ring in their life: ‘I made one when I had you. My first born. My baby boy. It’s different for everyone, but it’s always a moment of absolute joy and love. It’s a marker for what makes you happiest in the world.’

Harry wrapped his arms around his waist. “Lou?”

Louis looked up at Harry, laughing shakily. “You’re what makes me happiest in the world.”

Surprised delight and slight confusion bloomed on Harry’s face.

“Yeah?”

Louis hooked his arms around his neck, burying his fingers in the curls at the base of his head. “Yeah.”

Harry pressed their lips together and smiled at him, holding him close. “That’s all I want. To make you happy. And it’s mutual, you know,” he added. “You’re what makes me happiest in the world too.”

Louis felt light, weightless, soaring.

He realized in that moment he didn’t need wings to fly after all, with a love like theirs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this started out as a (very) vague idea for a (sort of) Thomas the Rhymer AU and ended up... not being that at all.  
> You may be able to tell that I love ot5 very much a lot.  
> Anyway, I hope somebody out there enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. If that's the case and you want to leave a comment or whatever, that would be very nice. Thank you for reading!


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